


Until the End Starts

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Never mind I'll find someone like you," goes the song.</p><p>For fourteen months, Suga has pined helplessly for his next door neighbour, a man who is as oblivious as he is straight.<br/>And then he meets Oikawa Tooru, a man as unlike Daichi as it's possible to be, and Suga starts to believe his aching heart can be healed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i know i left you speechless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewindraiser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewindraiser/gifts).



> This story is a belated birthday present for Noemi (thewindraiser). Noemi loves Suga, Daisuga and Oisuga, so this is what I came up with. 
> 
>  
> 
> The fic title and chapter titles are all taken from Adele songs.

_I know I left you speechless_

The knock at the door was sharp and unusually punctual. Not that it fazed Suga who was ready, and had been for a while, but as he heard the rat-a-tat-tat sound of knuckles against wood, he hurriedly checked his reflection in the mirror again, patting his left cheek, cursed the fact that his hair still wouldn’t lie flat, then brushed down his jeans for the sixth time.

“Come in,” he called, affecting an air of nonchalance. Then he threw himself on the sofa, picked up a magazine and pretended to be engrossed in its contents.

“You good to go, Suga?”

“Mmm, sure,” he said, pleased his voice was level because sometimes, even if he was pre-warned, the sound and sight of his neighbour caused a horrible mix of a squeak and a rasp to erupt from his lips.

“Only you look kind of settled. I could always give the tickets away,” the man teased.

Sure he had everything under control, Suga leapt to his feet, chucking the magazine back on the table and gave a grimace. “Do that and you’re dead meat, Sawamura. This is my birthday present, isn’t it?”

Daichi gave him a grin, his special lop-sided grin, the one that meant he found everything amusing, that he was happy. The one that sent Suga’s heart into overdrive, especially if it was sent his way. Which at that moment it was.

“Yeah, of course it’s your birthday present,” Daichi replied, and reached into his jacket pocket. “Two tickets, and look, you don’t have to take me. I meant it when I said you weren’t obliged to invite me.”

“You’re the only one I could cajole into coming with me,” Suga said lightly, willing his hands not to shake as he accepted his ticket. Then he swallowed. “Look ... uh ... you really don’t have to come along. I know she’s not really your –”

“No, I’d like to,” Daichi interrupted. “Unless ... uh ... sorry, is there someone else you’d rather go with?”

 “Hmm?”Suga said, playing for time. “Oh, no, not at all. My legion of fans are too tiring.”

Daichi didn’t laugh. “Not met anyone new, then?”

 _Fat chance._ He shook his head. “Not really looking,” he murmured then cleared his throat, anything to stop the vague tension that seemed to have slithered around them. “Thank you for getting the tickets. It’s amazing you managed to find them. I tried for hours but they’re like gold dust.”

Daichi shrugged and stared at his feet. “Guy from work went online for the morning, and I knew you liked her, so ... yeah...”

Nothing to it, he was saying. Pure happenstance, and not a special thought or gift at all. Just some guy from work and Daichi being in the right place.  Exactly what had Suga expected?

“Well, if you’re sure you can put up with my singing for two hours, then let’s get going.”

“Dammit, I knew I’d forgotten the earplugs,” Daichi replied, swiftly dodging away from Suga, who’d aimed a punch his way. “I take it back. You have a good voice, Sugawara. A very good voice. The best!  You should be an idol.”

“That’s better,” Suga said and glowered. Then he grinned at Daichi and the atmosphere immediately lightened at the banter. Picking up his jacket and keys, he followed him out of his apartment. They passed Daichi’s door opposite, the number a little wonky where the nail from the top of the eight had worked loose after too many door slams, and the large chip of paint and dent, where something (Suga wasn’t sure what) had been thrown or kicked during one last cataclysmic row.

And if Daichi saw where Suga’s focus was, he made no mention of it. Instead, he led the way towards the elevator running his fingers along the corridor radiator ridges and making it chime.

“So, who’s this guy from work? And why didn’t he want the tickets?” Suga asked.

“Hmm?”  Daichi looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, Iwaizumi? Yeah, he did, but he bought four.”

“And he’s a fan?” Suga asked, trying to build up a picture. He vaguely remembered Daichi mentioning the name. Someone he got on well enough with to have the occasional drink after work. 

Daichi scratched his head. “Rock’s more his thing. You’ve met him – black spiky hair, stocky build.”

“I don’t remem... oh...” Suga creased his forehead. “Was he the guy in the restaurant, _that_ time I bumped into you?”

“Mmm, that’s the one.” Daichi stopped speaking, his expression impassive, but he pressed the call button with unnecessary force when they reached the elevator.

“So ... uh ... is his girlfriend coming along?” Suga enquired, hoping she wasn’t as the impression of Iwaizumi’s companion appeared fleetingly in his mind. She’d been tall with long black hair coiled into the nape of her neck, and although Suga had apologised and stammered out a greeting to the four at the table, she’d looked askance at his ink-stained hands, smiled tightly and then turned away.

“Think that was their only date,” Daichi replied.

“He doesn’t hold it against me, I hope.”

“Doubt it. It was months ago and he’s been out with someone else since then.”

“So, is she coming tonight?”

The elevator doors slid open, the ding sounding through the corridor, and Daichi grimaced as he stepped inside. “Nope, he’s not seeing her, either. He’s bringing a friend.”

He was brooding, his brows furrowed, but what he was thinking about – or maybe disapproving of – Suga didn’t know.  And then he seemed to realise his mood was darkening because Daichi gave his head a shake, and chuckled. “ _You’ll_ like the guy. He’s a fan, too.”

***

The Saitama Super Arena was easy to get to. What wasn’t easy was negotiating their way through the crowds, who poured out of every station and bus stop to the venue.  In the end, Daichi stopped trying to carve a path through the crowd, and stayed next to Suga as they both shuffled their way to the concert.  Their shoulders touched. And their arms. But there was no way Suga could move away, so pushed together as they were, so he kept his attention on the girl in front, and curled his hand into a fist to stop his fingers from twitching towards Daichi’s.

Once again, he wondered why he put himself through this. But then distancing yourself from the one person who was always around, the only one he’d truly clicked with since he’d moved to Tokyo, was a distance he couldn’t contemplate.

“Shortcut!” Daichi whispered furiously, and grabbing Suga’s wrist, he pulled him through an opening in the crowd, and down a side street. “Come on, this way.”

“You sure about this? Everyone else is going the other way.” Suga asked, but he let himself be towed along.

“Yup. Have faith!”

Sure enough, Daichi was right, and having side stepped the throng, they scooted along a narrow pathway surrounding the hall, and bowled up to the main doors.

“AGH!  I think they’ve called our numbers,” Daichi muttered, and still with his hand clamped around Suga’s wrist, he wriggled them both towards the stewards.

“Are we late?”

“They called your block,” the steward replied, his thin lips quivering with disapproval.

Daichi dropped Suga’s arm, folding his own in front of him. “But we can go in now, right?” Daichi said, his eyes intense. “You haven’t called the next block yet, have you?”

Unable to see past Daichi’s logic, the steward grunted something, accepted money for the drinks tokens, and ushered them through.

“Brilliant. Shall I go to the bar?” Suga asked.

“Nope. This is my treat. You go and find our seats - I’ll get drinks. Lager, right?” he queried, and touched Suga on the shoulder.

“Mmm, fine.”

Parting on the stairway, Daichi emitted a sudden shout as he strode into the bar, leaving Suga tackling the stairs two at a time in his excitement. It had been a while since he’d been to a concert, something he’d used to love when he was younger, but he’d never particularly fancied doing it by himself, liking the energy a group of friends could bring to the experience. Since moving to Tokyo and concentrating hard on his career, he’d had no time to make new friends, at least those with a similar musical taste.

“Okay, this is it,” he murmured, staring at the entrance towards his block. Shimmying through the door, Suga studied the rows of seats  displayed before him. Standing on tiptoes, he could see quite clearly a space of two seats, the place where he and Daichi should be, so he wandered down the steps, humming as he approached. A figure was already sitting. Not Iwaizumi, but someone whose haughty expression so resembled the girl from the restaurant that Suga felt his insides plummet. Also tall, and with brown hair falling in the most perfect waves, his poised profile resembled that of a god. He was dressed not in jeans and a t-shirt, but cream chinos, a neatly pressed turquoise shirt, a brown suede jacket draped across his knees, and smart leather shoes, rather than trainers. Beside him, Suga felt scruffy, like a crow pecking at rubbish. Then Mr Perfect turned, as if sensing his scrutiny,  and Suga felt a shiver, not entirely unpleasant, go through him, anticipation causing his nerve endings to tingle.

The stranger stopped pouting, and his lips quivered into a smile. “You must be Sawamura’s friend. Iwa-chan’s wandered off to the bar, but I’m sure you could catch him if you want a drink.”

“Daichi’s there already,” Suga replied, returning the smile. “I think he saw him because he started to shout something.” He gave a small bow. “Sugawara Koushi.”

“Oikawa Tooru,” the man said inclining his head. “Are you looking forward to the concert?”

“Am I!” Suga laughed and wriggled into his seat. “I spent hours of my life queuing online only to lose out when my connection died. I’m really very grateful to be here. It’s kind of Iwaizumi-san to let us have tickets.”

Oikawa raised one eyebrow, but before he could say anything, his eyes flicked over Suga’s shoulder, and the small smile suddenly became wider. “Ah, look, the conquering heroes return from their battle with the bar. Iwa-chan, let me help you,” he said and reached across to take one of the drinks. “Sawa-chan, how lovely to see you again.”

“Mmm, hi,” Daichi muttered, not looking exactly enthusiastic.

“He loves me really,” Oikawa drawled.

“No one loves you, Assikawa. We tolerate you,” Iwaizumi grumbled, then laughed when Oikawa pouted. “Hey, birthday boy, don’t sulk.”

“Is it your birthday, too?” Suga interrupted. “It’s mine today.”

“Not for another month, but as Iwa-chan won’t be around, he’s treating me.”

“Here you go,” Daichi murmured, handing Suga a plastic glass full of lager as he sat on the end of the row. “When are you off, Hajime?”

_Hajime? Oh, that must be Iwaizumi. I didn’t know they were on first name terms._

“Two weeks time.”

“Looking forward to it?”

“Yeah, can’t wait for the opportunity.”

“He’ll miss me, of course. No one else cooks his tofu quite like I do,” Oikawa stage whispered to Suga, then burst into laughter at Suga’s wide eyes. “We share a flat.”

“And nothing else,” Iwaizumi butted in.

“Except a lifetime of memories,” Oikawa said, sighing as he fluttered his eyelashes.

Suga giggled at Oikawa’s lovelorn expression and again at Iwaizumi’s look of exasperation.  Clearly sensing an ally, Oikawa recrossed his legs and edged closer. “We were childhood sweethearts, you know. Had our first kiss at the age of –”

“Shut up!” Iwaizumi stormed, and pulling Oikawa away, he grinned at Suga. “Ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

“I want to hear more about this kiss,” Suga said, crinkling up his nose.

“No chance. I forbid you, Oikawa!”

 “You might as well tell him,” Daichi laughed. “Suga’s persistant.”

 Suga smiled across at them both. Iwaizumi’s expression, torn between irritation and resignation, Oikawa’s face, however, appeared neutral. “It sounds sweet,” Suga replied.

“Not if you were on the receiving end,” Iwaizumi retorted and glared at Oikawa. “We were ... what ... five or something?  Quite revolting, especially as I was eating ice cream at the time.”

“So cold in every way,” Oikawa said melodramatically. “Cold still, Iwa-chan.” Then he snorted. “I’m teasing. Hajime and I have been friends since kindergarten. We share a flat and the occasional meal out, absent ourselves when the other has ‘company’, but that’s it.” His eyes slid past Suga, resting on Daichi. “And you?”

“Hmm?”

“Sawamura and you, how did you meet?”

“Oh ... uh ... we live in the same apartment block. I moved in about a year ago, and Daichi helped carry some furniture up the stairs when the lift was out of order. ”

“Your knight in shining armour. How quaint. Sawa-chan, I didn’t know you had it in you. Or were you trying to impress Sugawara-san with your muscles?”

Daichi spluttered on his beer. Taking pity, Suga slapped him on the back, then turned back to Oikawa. “I think it was my comic collection.”

At that Oikawa stared open mouthed, and then he laughed, tipping his head right back. “Brought together by shoujo manga. How delicious!”

“Gore and blood sucking demons more like,” Daichi replied recovering. “And ... uh ... we’re not together, not that way.”

“What way would that be, Sawa-chan?” Oikawa asked, his eyes widening.

“Friends,” Suga put in hastily. “That’s all.”

“Ah, I see,” Oikawa’s eyes flickered from Daichi’s face to Suga’s, an all to knowing curve to his lips. “Like us, then Iwa-chan. Just good friends.”

“No,” Iwaizumi said. “They’re happy. You’re the most irritating person I know.”

“So rude,” Oikawa retorted, but he didn’t look the least bit annoyed.

It was exactly seven-thirty. The lights dimmed, and the prelude music that had been lightly tinkling around them faded to silence.  Suga’s pulse raced as a single spotlight appeared on stage, highlighting the star.

_‘There’s a fire starting in my heart  
Reaching a fever pitch, it’s bringing me out the dark.’_

“I knew it!” shrieked Oikawa, earning a glare from a girl in front. (A girl whose gaze melted when she saw his face.) “I knew she’d start with this.” He sighed and rested his head on his hands. “What a goddess.”

_‘Finally I can see you crystal clear.’_

“Yes,” whispered Suga and stared at the stage, his senses dazzled as her voice filled the auditorium. And although he was aware of Daichi sitting back in his seat, he was far more entranced by not only the singer, but the man leaning forward, matching Suga word for word as the music played.

 

 _“Never mind I’ll find someone like youuuuuuu,”_ Oikawa crooned.

They were filing out of the arena, rows and rows of perfectly behaved audience, chattering quietly, lit from within. But with Oikawa next to him, some devil had seized hold of Suga, and he joined in with the next line.

_“I want nothing but the best for you – ouuuuu.”_

“ _Don’t forget me, I beg!_ ” Oikawa rasped, his voice cracking as he attempted the top note.

“ _I remember you said_ ,” Suga sang, far more tunefully. “ _Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes –_ ”

“ _It hurts instead. Sometimes it-_ ”

“Enough, already! Iwaizumi muttered, whacking Oikawa over the head. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Hmm?” Oikawa winked at Suga (which he had to admit was causing his heart to flutter just a little) and reached out to stroke Iwaizumi’s cheek. “No, Iwa-chan, I’m embarrassing you. Now, then, Sugawara-kun, how else shall we entertain the crowd? Another song?”

“Mmm, yes,” he agreed, nodding his head. And despite the fact they were still tightly packed together, he didn’t care about propriety and etiquette because there was something so infectious about Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

“Which is your favourite?” Oikawa asked. Then he frowned and tapped his head.“Oh, let me guess?  You were belting out a few of them, so ... hmm ... Rumour Has It?” Suga shook his head. “Hello?”

“No,” Suga replied, enjoying the game, because –

“Yeah, it’s not going to be the one he was singing along to,” Daichi interrupted. He licked his lips. “I’m guessing it’s the one you quietened down to, eh, Suga? Because you wanted to listen.”

He twisted around, and for a moment stared right into Daichi’s eyes, amazed at Daichi’s perspicacity. “You’re right. So, which one?”

“I don’t know the title.” Daichi grinned, then took a breath, “but it went something like this ... _‘But we had time against us, miles between us, the heavens cried, I know I left you speechless.’_ ”

“Jeez, not you as well,” Iwaizumi complained.

“You know the words!” Suga shrieked.

Daichi rubbed his ear. “Yeah, calm down. It’s hard not to when you’ve been blasting it out every day for a year. And you sing it in the shower.”

“I thought Oikawa was bad, but your voice is shit, Sawamura,” Iwaizumi growled, still clearly embarrassed at the heads turning their way. “Like a strangled cat.”

Daichi laughed, not at all put out. “We can’t all sing like angels, Hajime. Lighten up.”

“Anyway,” Oikawa said as they reached daylight, “where are we going now?”

“Uh, home?”

“The night is young, Iwa-chan, and I’m too wired to sleep now.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “You’ll be singing all night if we go now, won’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” Oikawa nodded, then turned to Suga. “You’ll come, won’t you? Both of you, I mean.”

Suga heard Daichi’s slight cough, and waited a second for some kind of demurral, but when Daichi stayed silent, he replied with an enthusiastic yes.

“Not a karaoke bar!” Iwaizumi insisted.

“How about Takahiro’s,” Oikawa suggested. “That’s not too far, and we can always get a table, can’t we, Iwa-chan?”

“Good call.” Iwaizumi glanced over to Daichi. “That okay with you guys?”

“Um... maybe not,” Suga murmured. He swallowed and stared at his hands. “Daichi?”

“Suga, I’m fine,” Daichi said in undertone. “Yeah, let’s go there. Not been for a while, and the food’s good.”

“Owner’s very understanding, too,” Iwaizumi said, laughing. “Wasn’t that where I first met you, Suga-san?”

“Oh, tell me more,” Oikawa ordered, light dancing in his eyes. “You obviously made a good impression.”

“Uh, I tripped over and fell into Daichi’s lap,” Suga said and blushed. “I literally gatecrashed a double date. Not my best move.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. He tossed his hair, casting a glance back at Iwaizumi. “Was that the disaster date with Frosty Face-chan?”

“Uh-huh. Never again.”

“I really _am_ sorry,” Suga whispered, face in his hands. “I honestly had no idea the four of you were there.”

Someone, well, he knew it was Daichi, ruffled his hair. “You were celebrating. Stop apologising just because other people couldn’t see the funny side of it.”

Other people being the Oikawa-called ‘Frosty-Face’ and Mei.  Suga swallowed again, the weight of that night still pressing on his shoulders.

“The drinks are on me, Sugawara-san,” Oikawa hissed, hand cupped across his mouth. “Utter bitch. I never understood what he saw in her.”

 

Takehiro’s was buzzing, but Tooru knew they’d find a table. “It helps,” he told Sugawara and Sawamura, “that we know the owner.”

“You do?” Sugawara asked, still sounding a little flustered.

Tooru stared at him, noticing for the first time a mole under his left eye, and a tiny patch of pink appearing on his cheeks. And he stifled the laugh bubbling in his chest as he remembered that night. Or rather the aftermath of Hajime’s disastrous date. With a shirt splattered with soy sauce and stinking of fish, he’d arrived back at their flat with a scowl darker than pitch. And Tooru had laughed until he’d seen the pink hand print across his cheek and the nick in his lip.

 

(“Date not go well, then?”

“Disaster as soon as we met up. She clearly expected to go somewhere better. Didn’t like Daichi much, either.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have talked software all night.”

Hajime made a ‘pfft’ sound. “We didn’t. I actually made a concerted effort to ask her questions, just as you told me to.”

“And that didn’t work?  Everyone loves talking about themselves!”

“Yeah, but she turned out to have shit opinions, which didn’t go down well with Daichi. Then ... uh ... this guy turned up, pure coincidence, who turned out to be Daichi and Mei-san’s neighbour.”  He grinned a bit. “S’quite funny. Daichi called him over, possibly to prove a point, and didn’t realise the guy was a little bit drunk. He was celebrating something. Can’t remember what.”

“And?” Tooru asked, wondering where this was heading. He’d met Sawamura before, one of the few people he declared ‘not boring’ from Hajime’s firm, and he was very easy to wind up – always a plus in Tooru’s book.

“He tripped and landed in Daichi’s lap, spilling beer over them both. Then he tried to make it better by patting Daichi with a napkin. Which was paper, so disintegrated.”

“How was Makki about it?”

“You know Makki,” Hajime replied, failing to cover his mouth as he yawned. “Came over to see what the problem was, ultra casual as it was me, and started to laugh. That didn’t go down well with Arisa-san or Mei-san either.”

Tooru’s lips twitched. “What a shame,” he said lightly, adding, “What point was Sawamura trying to prove?”

Staring at his feet, Hajime shuffled backwards and into the kitchen.“Uh... nothing. I should get this shirt in the wash.” 

“Soak it first,” Tooru called, then getting to his feet, he sauntered to the kitchen door, watching as Hajime stripped off. “What point?”

Hajime’s hand tightened around the laundry detergent. Tooru could see his knuckles whiten, and for a moment, he thought he was going to remain silent, but then with a resigned slump of his shoulders, he turned around. “You were right about Arisa.”

“She doesn’t dislike me because I’m a smartass rich bastard of a lawyer.”

“Nope.”

“But because I’d rather sleep with someone like you than someone like her?” he said, _half_ teasing. And although it hurt knowing Hajime wouldn’t respond, he still draped his arm across his shoulders because ... because he’d warned him about Arisa. “Sorry.”

“Get off me,” Hajime murmured, but didn’t push him away. “Oika... Tooru?”

“Mmm?” He stepped away, reaching across to the cupboard and two wine glasses.

“Just so you know, the girl could be Miss Universe and I’m not gonna go out with her unless she’s ... uh ... cool. A’right?”

He poured two glasses of red, amazed his hand was so steady. “And I won’t go out with anyone who thinks all geeks are boring,” he replied, meeting Hajime’s eyes.

“Deal.”)

 

Sawamura had wanted to prove a point. That’s what Hajime had said. He’d waved Sugawara over to them.

“Tooru, Hajime, this way.” Makki’s words interrupted his reverie, not that he needed to think for that much longer. He was sure now, sure as he ever could be without actually making a move.

“Hanamaki-san is another friend of ours from school,” Tooru explained to Sugawara. “High School, I mean.”

“Any friend of Hajime’s is a friend of mine,” Hanamaki decreed, then smirked. “Of Tooru’s, though ...”

“Your wit is so sharp it’s a stab to the heart, Makki-chan,” Tooru replied, smiling sweetly. He touched Suga lightly on the shoulder, noting with interest the way his eyelids flew open them fluttered. “What are you drinking, Sugawara-san? There’s a very good Sauvignon Blanc – nineteen ninety six, I think, or else a Rioja-”

“Stop showing off,” Hajime grumbled. “Beer for me, Makki. Daichi?”

“Mmm, same.”

“Shouldn’t we be celebrating?” Tooru reposted. “It is Sugawara’s birthday after all. How old are you today?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replied. “Nothing special.”

“Still deserves champagne, don’t you think, Sawa-chan?”

Sawamura stared at Tooru, his eyes flickered to Sugawara, and then he nodded. “Sure, and it’s on me.”

“Daichi, I can pay my way,” Tooru heard him mutter.

“It’s your birthday.”

“You already paid for the tickets.”

“Yeah, well, you’re worth it,” Sawamura replied, giving him a soft punch on the arm.

Another flush mounted Sugawara’s cheeks, and he sucked in his top lip.

 _Interesting,_ Tooru thought, and very slowly tilted his head back, watching to see Sawamura’s expression.

It was neutral. He’d already turned to Hanamaki and accepted a wine list. Then, after ordering a bottle, he twisted away from Sugawara, and started a conversation with Hajime.

_Oh, that’s how it is._

Makki’s food was, as usual, excellent. Of course, there were plenty of noodle bars in Tokyo, and plenty that had good service, an extensive drinks list, and light music, but what made Takehiro’s successful was Makki’s personality. He had a wit about him that he seemed to imbue in both the dishes and the waiting staff. The bar wasn’t swish. There was nothing overly elegant about it, but there was a very real air of relaxation surrounding the four of them as they sat on the purple and gold floor cushions, and discussed the menu.

Sugawara clearly hadn’t been out for a while, and was scrutinising the menu carefully, and the muffled conversation he’d had with Sawamura came back to Tooru. ‘Paying his way’ and Sawamura’s insistence that this night was on him.

He leant over the table, gently pulling down Sugawara’s menu. “That chicken dish is very good. Also the shrimps are divine.”

“Ah, thank you. I’ve had a takeaway or two from here.”

“Mmm, Iwa-chan mentioned he’d met you here,” Tooru continued idly. “You were celebrating, he said.”

“Mmm.” He pressed his lips together, staring again at the menu, but Tooru got the impression he was only concentrating so he didn’t catch Sawamura’s eye.

“What were you celebrating, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh...” He glanced up at Tooru, and gave him the benefit of a fleeting smile, one that for some reason made Tooru’s lips curve upwards in response.  “I’d landed an extension to my ... uh ... contract, I guess you’d call it.”

“What is it you do?”

“Manga artist,” he replied. “That particular night I’d just found out I’d been recommissioned, so ... yes ... I treated myself to a takeaway and a bottle of wine.”

Tooru blinked. There was no reason for him to be at all surprised – he barely knew Sugawara, after all – but he wouldn’t have had him down as an artist.  “So, you draw the blood and gore comics that Sawamura was so interested in, do you?”

“Um, not those ones, no,” he replied. “I write and illustrate a shapeshifter series. It’s ... uh ... starting to take off, but it’s been a slow process.”

“How did you get into something like that?” Hajime asked.

Sugawara gave a breathy start and fiddled with his shirt collar. “Uh, I’ve kinda always liked art and fanart,  so I started a web comic around three years ago. It’s pretty popular, but I don’t make much money out of it. The main thing was that it got me noticed, so I had interviews with two or three studios, landed a job assisting one of their main artists – he’s the blood and gore guy. He liked what I did and encouraged me to try something of my own.”

“Fascinating,” Tooru murmured.

“It is,” Sawamura snapped.

“Yes, I mean it,” Tooru retorted, then shook his head. “Sawa-chan, I am sometimes sincere, even if I don’t sound it.”

“Good.” Sawamura’s eyes darkened. “Suga’s work is excellent. He’s very talented.”

“Daichi, you don’t need to defend me,” Sugawara said and laughed. “He has to say that because I get him advance copies of his favourites.”

“Don’t put yourself down!”

“I’m not,” Sugawara protested. “But you are biased.”

“Because you’re good! That’s not bias, it’s reality!”

“You bicker like a married couple,” Tooru said lightly. “Are you sure you’re not together?”

Instead of the blush he’d been expecting, or the glower from Sawamura, Sugawara stared straight at Tooru, holding his gaze. “Daichi’s my ‘sassy straight friend’ – isn’t that what we all need in our lives?”

“Touché,” Tooru said, adding with a murmur. “Although there are other things, equally important, that I’d like in my life?”

“And they are?” Sugawara’s tongue slipped through his pale pink lips, and then darted back between his white even teeth.

A shadow loomed over them. “Champagne as ordered!”

_Nice timing, Makki-chan!_

“Well, that for a start,” Tooru replied smoothly. “I love the way it prickles my mouth, sets my senses tingling. Anticipation is what makes life exciting, don’t you think, Sugawara?”

Now he wasn’t imagining it, Sugawara wasn’t glancing back to Sawamura before replying. And his smile, not wide and teasing, but a little shy was directed only to Tooru.

“Call me Suga,” he said. “Everyone else does.”

 


	2. as it fell, you rose to claim it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is taken from 'Set Fire to the Rain' by Adele.

_I let it fall, my heart,  
And as it fell you rose to claim it_

_  
_ “Why are you fussing over clothes?”

Tooru glanced over his shoulder, catching Hajime in the doorway of his bedroom. “I always take care with what I wear. You know that.”

“But it’s my send off with a bunch of geeks that you swear are boring. We’ll all be in jeans and shitty t shirts with what we think are funny graphics, while you’re in a silk shirt and chinos... Oh ...I get it.”

“Get what?” Tooru asked archly.

“The non-geek.”

“Hmm?”

“My late invitation to Suga.” Hajime grinned and stepped into the room. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s a very nice man. You like him, Iwa-chan, or you wouldn’t have invited him.”

“You’re babbling. You really like him. As in _like_ like not just like.”

“You need to extend your vocabulary. I don’t know _what_ you’re on about.”

Hajime snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “The turquoise looks good on you.”

“Yes, but I wore it for the concert...”

“HA!  If you really weren’t interested in Suga, you wouldn’t give a flying fuck what you were wearing.”

“GIT!” Bundling up the turquoise shirt, he threw it at Hajime.  “Shall I wear a suit and tie?”

“Bit much for a pub.”

“Mmm, but I look impressive in my work clothes,” Tooru replied, and sucked in his cheeks.

“Sugawara didn’t seem to be the sort of person that paid much attention to clothes,” Hajime offered. “He’d probably live in ink splattered jeans all day if he could. Besides...” He trailed off, uncrossed his arms and stepped towards the wardrobe, pulling out a lilac shirt.

“Besides what?”

“I don’t think you need to impress him. He ... uh ...” His shoulders shifted a little as if he was stiffening himself to say something. “He seemed interested. At least from where I was sitting, and Sawamura said he was pleased to be asked tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Hajime muttered and handed over the shirt. “This one suits you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice small. Their fingers touched, and Hajime cupped Tooru’s fingers in his palm, giving them a squeeze.

“Be careful, all right?”

“Me? I’m always careful.”

“Yeah, right. Sometimes I don’t think you realise the destruction you cause, Oikawa. You’re a hurricane  - Tornado Tooru.”

“I _do_ like him.”

“Yeah ... I can tell.”

***

The bar Hajime had chosen was buzzing, not with his friends, a rather motley crew from work mixing with those he socialised with, but with the normal Friday Tokyo crowd. Tooru had been there a while and was resisting the urge to glance at his watch again, when he saw him.

Well, he saw Sawamura first, pushing open the door, his face turned behind him as he laughed in conversation. And obviously, as he was Suga’s neighbour, they’d arrive together. He let out a breath, suddenly aware he’d been holding it, and then smoothed his face into unconcern.

No, that looked cold, and Suga wouldn’t know hardly anyone here. He smiled instead, and for good measure stepped forwards.

“Sawa-chan, you made it. Suga, good to see you again.”

Sawamura raised his eyebrows gave a sound that sounded like a snort, then pushed his way to the bar. “I’m buying, what would you like, Suga?  You, too, Oikawa?”

“I’m drinking white. I have a bottle if either of you would like a glass,” he replied.

“Mmm, I would,” Suga replied. He bowed his head. “It’s good to see you too, Oikawa. Is Iwaizumi-san around?”

“Telling boring computer jokes to his fellow geeks. Everyone’s laughing politely, but you can tell they’re aching for him to shut up.”

“Only so they can tell their own,” Sawamura barked. He grinned. “It’s true, we’re really boring when we get together. I have warned Suga not to expect a real fun night out.”

“Have you?” Tooru turned his face away from Sawamura, inclining towards Suga. “As outsiders, maybe we should make our own fun.”

A sudden gasp and then a laugh rippled towards him. “Are you flirting with me, Oikawa-kun?”

“Are you objecting, Suga-chan?”

“Yeah, I think this is where I order a drink and leave you to it,” Sawamura interrupted and stretched out his hand, intent it seemed, on ruffling Suga’s hair, but then he retracted and tugged his shirt collar. His buttoned up, non t-shirt, shirt.  “Have fun. I’m gonna talk to the guys from work.”

Suga watched him go, and Tooru watched Suga, wondering about him, wondering if he was aware of the crush he had on his neighbour, and whether it was merely a crush.

“Your ‘sassy straight friend’ isn’t,” he began.

“Isn’t what?”

“Sassy,” Tooru teased and flipped Suga on the nose. “Does that upset you?”

“That he’s straight and a friend?” Suga attempted a shrug, but it was forced, the tension not leaving his shoulders. “ _’Should I give up, or should I just keep chasin’ pavements?’_ ” he sang softly.

“ _’Even if it leads nowhere?’_ ” Tooru crooned back. Then he sighed. “There isn’t a song about how to cope with fancying your straight best friend, is there, Suga-chan?”

There must have been something in his tone, weariness perhaps, because Suga stared at him, his gaze perceptive and true. “You, too, huh?” he whispered.

And he should have denied it, laughed it off with a tinkling laugh, declared he didn’t know what Suga was talking about, that it was nonsense, all nonsense. Because the world and its husband knew that bonding over broken hearts would only lead to tragedy.

“I did,” he said. “A million years ago.”

“More songs, Tooru?” Suga quirked his head to one side, the gesture causing Tooru’s eyes to widen as he scrutinised his face. “Are you ever serious?”

 A touch shaken, he took his time replying. “True in this case. We’ve been friends for over twenty years, Suga-chan. And I’m someone that lets plants die rather than overwater, so ...” He picked up his bottle of wine, tipping some into Suga’s glass, giving the bottle a twist when he reached the top. “Sometimes you have to know when to quit, and it’s not always when you’re ahead.”

***

 

Suga had been asked to Iwaizumi’s leaving drinks out of politeness, he knew that, despite Daichi assuring him that ‘Hajime’ wasn’t at all polite.  And he wouldn’t have agreed to go, would have given Iwaizumi a grateful but firm no, except for one thing. Or two, really. One was the fact it was an evening out, and not stuck at home with only hot milk and the television, and the other was Oikawa Tooru.

Suga liked him. He liked Oikawa’s easy charm, his smile, the flirtatious lilt to his lips, and the passion that had surfaced when yelling his heart out at the concert. He was unbridled, loved life, and open as sunshine.

As opposite to Daichi as anyone could possibly be.

At least on the surface.

And he knew, he’d known for a while now, that he couldn’t continue with the ridiculous fantasy that his neighbour would wake up one day and decide the only person he wanted to be with was Suga.  He’d misread the signs from the very start, blithely ignoring the evidence around him, even when first introduced to Mei, and allowed himself to dream guiltily of those muscled arms around him, those lips on his, and their limbs tangling together under crisp linen sheets.

It hadn’t helped that Daichi had been so kind. Yes, there’d been the sudden connection when he’d seen the manga comics and his astonished delight when he’d discovered Suga was assisting his favourite artist, but calling around, offering to install his computer, insisting he joined them for food – all these things had been unnecessary for a mere neighbour, but they had cemented Daichi in Suga’s head as a good friend (it was in his heart that he held him as something more).

And he had got on well with Mei. She’d been as welcoming as Daichi, helping him arrange his apartment, organising his cupboards (‘You are hopeless, Sugawara-san’), and giving him a list of all the best shops in the area.  Mei was a nurse, shifts making her lifestyle erratic, and she’d wander into his apartment in the mornings, yawning her head off and accepting tea. Daichi would return from his office to see her dashing out the door, they’d exchange an unhurried kiss, and then Daichi, having changed into sweat pants, would knock on Suga’s door with take away, demanding inside information on whatever manga he was currently obsessed with. (And he’d gone through a few in the year Suga had known him.)

Then Daichi and Mei’s kisses on the doorstep had become a brief wave, and somewhere down the line, Suga realised he was watching a couple falling out of love, with no reason except stubbornness keeping them together. Maybe realising the end was near, Mei had distanced herself the month before she left, no longer dropping by to complain about her day, visiting only once to say goodbye.  

After that, Daichi had visited more frequently, and the regularity of their time together became more accurate than any clock. He’d needed to talk, to make sense of the mess he’d made of his life, as he put it (because both sets of parents had expected them to marry). Suga had been there for him, providing the shoulder on which, well, Daichi didn’t cry, but he did need someone to prop him up, especially as, at the time, he couldn’t cook anything beyond instant noodles. The impromptu cooking sessions, Suga’s visits carrying two cans of lager and a stack of manga might have helped Daichi recover his equilibrium, but they’d only left Suga deeper in the quagmire of his hopeless feelings.

But there was only so much pining he could do. And Oikawa was smiling at him, his lips parting in repose, leaning forward to listen when Suga offered up an opinion, asking questions, and ensuring his glass was never empty.

“Let me buy another bottle,” Suga insisted, when they’d worked their way through the wine. “I might be an artist, but I’m not starving in a garret.”

“Plying me with drink are you, Suga-chan? If this carries on, I’ll need to sit down.”

Gulping at the last drop in his glass, Suga scanned the room. In one corner, Daichi stood with Iwaizumi, an intense expression on his face as he listened to the conversation. For a brief moment, he glanced Suga’s way, but suddenly succumbing to what seemed to be a bout of shyness, Suga focused his attention in the opposite direction, and touched Oikawa on the arm. “There’s a table over there,” he said at last. “Why don’t you nab it, and I’ll go to the bar. Same again?”

“House white is fine,” Oikawa assured him.

“But this is better,” Suga replied. “And you like your wine, I think?”

“I do indeed,” he replied, and picking up the ice bucket that had housed their bottle, he sauntered across to the empty table. Taking a breath, Suga headed to the bar. Daichi had returned to his conversation, a glass at his lips, and didn’t look his way again.

“I have spent a lot of time talking,” Suga said when he joined Oikawa, “and not nearly enough time listening. You know a lot about me now, Oikawa-kun, but I know next to nothing about you.”

“I’m not important.”

“Really?” Suga laughed. “I have a feeling if I said that, you’d berate me for having no confidence or something.”

“Perhaps I have no confidence,” Oikawa murmured. He poured a glass for Suga, waiting for him to return the favour.

“You exude confidence, Oikawa-san,” Suga said, tipping more wine into his glass. “And charm. You wear them like an expensive coat and scarf.” He sipped the wine, glad he’d bought the expensive bottle and not taken a chance on the house white, because some things deserved their price tag and had to be savoured. “What is it you do for a living?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Oikawa replied.

“What sort? Not that I know the difference.”

“Attorney,” he qualified, and chinked his glass to Suga’s. “I talk a lot in court.”

“And you’re good.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Oikawa looked successful, not just the clothes, but the way he held himself.

“I get results and piss off opposing counsel. That’s as good a judge of success as anything.”  Putting down his wine, Oikawa frowned and reached out, brushing his thumb against Suga’s cheek. “That’s better,” he said, even as Suga flinched. “Why do you cover up your mole?”

“Blemish,” Suga muttered, and raising his hand, he cupped that side of his face.

“Beauty mark,” Oikawa said, and leaning further forward, he pried Suga’s hand away. “Forgive me, I could say I’m used to uncovering lies in court so it’s become second nature, but the truth is your mole is...” He paused and swigged down some wine. “I can resist everything except...”

“Temptation,” Suga finished. Oikawa’s fingers were cool in his. His hand uncalloused, nails neat but not manicured, fingertips now tracing soft circles on Suga’s wrist.

It had been a while, the unfamiliar flip in his chest proving to Suga just how long a while it had been since he’d enjoyed so _deliberate_ a touch. 

“Sugawara-san,” Oikawa whispered as he dropped his hand. “It’s too public here, but I’d like to see you again. May I take your number?”

 

Suga was dancing as he walked home, not literally, but in his mind, he was twirling on the pavement and laughing at the stars.

“Good night, then?” Daichi remarked, jiggling his keys in his hand.

“Yes, thank you for persuading me to go.”

“Not a problem. You spend too much time in your apartment. About time you had a social life.” He chewed the side of his mouth, casting Suga a look from the side. “You and Oikawa were ... uh ... getting on?”

“Yes, you could say that.” Suga started to giggle, intoxicated by wine and that feeling he was on the precipice of something new. But Daichi wasn’t smiling. “You don’t like Oikawa much, do you?”

“Me?” Daichi huffed out his cheeks. “I don’t mind him. He’s ... uh ... loud, that’s all.”

“Loud?” Suga raised his eyebrows.

“Wrong word. I mean he’s _there_ , you know. In your face.”  Sticking his hands in his pockets, he kicked a sliver of gravel, sending it skidding across the pavement. “Does my opinion matter?”

Suga swallowed. _Of course._   “Um, yes, it does.”

“Then...” Daichi stopped and turned full face to Suga. “We rub each other up the wrong way – and I think he thrives on that -  but I know he’s a decent guy. He’ll ... uh ... he’ll be good for you, I think, so ... yeah, that’s my opinion.”

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Um, well, here’s me talking about Oikawa and you’re ... uh ...” He coughed. “You must miss her.”

“Mei?” Daichi gave him a wry smile. “I’m fine. Last few months together we barely saw each other anyway, so, you know, it’s not that different.”

 

It was the following Saturday when they had a date. Not that it was the first time Suga had heard from Oikawa since Iwaizumi’s leaving drinks. He’d texted assiduously the following morning, following up with a call on the Sunday to ask where Suga would like to go.

And Suga, who got in every way flustered when asked to make a decision based on what _he_ wanted, found himself stuttering that he liked the park, then because that sounded dull, changed to a nearby restaurant, ‘or we could catch a movie?’.

“Suga-chan,” Oikawa teased. “I’m asking what you like to do, so stop thinking about what I might like and tell me.”

“Um... well, in that case, I do like being outside because I spend so much time cooped up in my flat. I like picnics, too, and this weather is beautiful at the moment, so maybe a basket of food, although-” He bit his lip.

“I sense a but,” Oikawa murmured.

He blushed, supremely pleased they were talking on the phone and without face time. “It’s ... um ... public.”

“It is indeed,” he drawled, but there was a lightness to his tone, Suga sensing he was pleased. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

He’d texted twice since then, once in response to Suga asking what he should wear. **< <Whatever you want. It’s not formal.>>** he’d replied, and then again to ask for his address. **< <I’ll pick you up.>>**

So, although money was running out, and he’d have to live on ramen for the rest of the month, Suga ran to the shops and blued the last of his wages on a grey shirt with pale pink flecked through. Staring at himself in the mirror, he rolled up the sleeves, to make it less formal, then tugged at the too stiff collar.

_I look as if I’ve made too much effort._

And it wasn’t as if he wanted Oikawas to think he’d not bothered at all, but did dressing up make him look really desperate?

“I don’t know!” he whined.

The knock at the door surprised him. Especially when the person didn’t come straight in, so it couldn’t be Daichi. Far too early for Oikawa, unless he was some kind of control freak, or punctuality nut. (Hell, what if he is? What if he takes me somewhere and I can’t get out?  Iwaizumi-san has left now, and I don’t know any of his friends. What if he has no friends? And this commission is complete and they’re not expecting the next until two weeks time, so I won’t be missed at all, except by –

“Suga, are you there?”

“DAICHI!” Relief welled in his throat and he ran to the door.

“Hi,” Daichi nodded and smiled. “Sorry, have I caught you at a bad time? Only I was going through a cupboard and found some of my old comics. Thought you might be interest--- oh.” He stopped speaking, looking Suga up and down. “You’re on your way out, are you?”

“Mmm, a date,” he admitted, wondering why he felt guilty.

“Shirt’s nice.”

“Is it?” Suga fretted. “I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, it suits you. Look, I’ll ... um ... I’ll come back.”

“N-no, come in. At least leave the comics here instead of taking them back.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it was such a long away,” Daichi muttered, then clearly thinking it over, stepped over the threshold. “Anywhere nice?”

“No idea,” Suga replied. He stepped to the side. “It’s ... um ... I’m going out with Oikawa.”

“Yeah, thought you might be,” Daichi said. “Anyway, you look good, but ... your collar’s twisted. You might want to -”

“Up or down?” Suga asked. “Also do I look too _shiny_? I feel like I’m too new!”

“Suga, I’m not the person to ask,” Daichi replied, but obviously sensing Suga’s increasing desperation, he plonked the comics down on the table, then reached towards him.

“Okay,” he began, his fingers on Suga’s shirt collar. “Up will make you look like some preppy teen trying to look cool. Down is better, but undo the buttons and ...” He started to laugh. “You haven’t taken out the plastic clips. No wonder it looks so stiff!”

“I’m useless,” he moped. “How will I get through this when I need lessons on getting dressed?”

“Nah, just out of practise,” Daichi said, failing to stop an amused grin. “How long since you’ve had a date, anyway?”

“Too long for me to remember,” he said casually, not adding ‘ _Fourteen months ago when you offered to help me move in.’_

“Odd that,” Daichi murmured, frowning as he tweaked Suga’s sleeves.

“Why?”

He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “Because, Sugawara Koushi, you’re a good looking guy, who’s also intelligent and a lot of fun.  Bet Oikawa-san can’t believe his luck.”

***

 

Tooru decided to take the stairs up to Suga’s apartment. He was a little early, nothing to cause alarm, he hoped, but the traffic had been miraculously clear for a Saturday afternoon and hanging around in the street didn’t appeal. He would knock on the door, politely explain why he was early, apologise profusely, and then they could head off.

As he climbed the stairs, pausing at each stairwell, he took in his surroundings. The building was old, but well cared for. New paint glistened on the walls, pictures breaking up an otherwise unceasing magnolia, and someone had clearly taken care to ensure the communal floors were clean. Suga lived on the fourth floor, his apartment at the end of a corridor to the right. Probably small, Tooru thought, but not too cramped for one person. Then he remembered Sawamura lived opposite and until recently had lived with a girlfriend, so perhaps each apartment was different, or they were bigger than he imagined.

At the fourth set of stairs, he checked his watch and slowed his pace. He smoothed down his tie, then in a sudden burst of action removed it entirely, stuffing it into his pocket.

“Far too stuffy,” he muttered, and undid two buttons, checking his reflection in a hallway mirror as he passed. He giggled, recalling Hajime’s exasperated scowl whenever he’d asked his opinion on clothes, or whether his hair was right.

“Do I look like a fucking stylist?” The voice in his head resounded so loud it was as if Hajime were actually there.

He stopped to catch his breath. This wasn’t his first date, not by a long way, but it was the first he’d planned without Iwa-chan telling him to fuck off every five minutes when he plagued him with questions.

“Guess I’m really on my own.”

He heard laughter as he approached the apartment. Suga’s door was open a crack, and so, coming to a halt, Tooru (not feeling the slightest ashamed) listened.

“Ugh!  I have those odd folding creases in it, too. Do I have time to iron it?”

“Not really.” It was Sawamura’s voice. “Look, I wouldn’t worry. The creases will drop out, and he probably won’t notice.”

“Daichi,” Suga despaired. “He dresses really well. Of course, he’s going to notice! Dammit, I should change!”

“Stop worrying! You look fine!”

Oikawa tiptoed closer.

“Sugawara Koushi,” Sawamura continued, his voice soft. “If he’s the type of guy who’s going to turn down a date with you because of some creases in a shirt, then he’s not worth it, is he?”

“It looks as if I couldn’t be arsed!”

“No, it looks as if you went out to buy a new shirt because you’re excited about the date.” Sawamura broke off. There was a squeak of a chair being pushed back, and a clank as someone picked up two mugs. “Leave the mugs. The state you’re in you’ll splash water all over yourself.”

“Shall I wear a tie?”

“Do you _own_ a tie?”

“No, but you do.”

“And you want me to fetch a selection.”

“Would you?”

“I can.” Sawamura yawned. “But don’t you want to feel comfortable? Wearing a tie’s going to make you even more self conscious.”

“You’re right.” Tooru heard Suga sniff. “Thank you.”

“No problem... What are you doing now?”

“Uh ...” Suga mumbled something and Daichi laughed.

“Clean your teeth if you’re that worried! And no, it doesn’t look desperate. It looks as if you take hygiene seriously.”

Unable to stop the smile on his face, Tooru leant against the wall, his shoulders shaking. Sugawara Koushi was just as adorable as he’d thought.

“Oikawa?”

Startled, Tooru blinked and leapt away from the wall. “Sawamura-san!”

“Yeah, thought I saw you.” Daichi wasn’t smiling now, not frowning either, but Tooru could tell he wasn’t entirely happy. “Look, Suga’s a bit ... um ... worried.”

“About a creased shirt,” Tooru stated, deciding he might as well admit he’d eavesdropped. 

“That’s a symptom,” Daichi warned. “He’s nervous. Doesn’t want to screw it up, so ... uh ... be nice, yeah?”

Feeling a twitch of annoyance, Tooru resisted the urge to snap back that it was none of Sawamura’s business. Instead, he let a lazy smile adorn his face, stepped up to Daichi and made full use of his height advantage to loom over him. “Anyone would think you were jealous, Sawa-chan?”

He didn’t bite, or roar or even glower. Instead, he looked as if he were really considering Tooru’s words, before slowly shaking his head. “Not in the way you’re implying, Oikawa-san. He’s a friend. A very good one, and I don’t want him fucked over.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

“I hope you won’t,” Daichi said, sounding a lot more conciliatory. “Suga is a genuinely nice guy.”

“And I’m not?”

Daichi laughed softly, the sound almost regretful. “I don’t think any of us are, Oikawa-san.” Then he stepped backwards, rapping his knuckles on the door and pushing it open. “Hey, Suga, I’m off now, but your date’s here.”

Suga bounded out of another room, toothbrush in his mouth.  “Don’t tease me like tha- OH!”  He stopped mid brush and hastily hid the toothbrush behind his back. “Hi,” he spluttered, then grinned as a blob white froth escaped onto his lips. “I don’t have rabies, I promise!”

Tooru grinned back and a wave of pure pleasure flooded through his veins. “That’s all right, Suga-chan, I don’t bite either.”

“I’ll just ... uh ...” Suga dashed back to his bathroom, then popped his head around the door. “I won’t be long.”

“See you later,” Daichi called out, closing the door behind him.

“Mmmhmmm,” came the muffled reply, and then the sound of a tap turning on, and the toothbrush being turned off.

Tooru didn’t sit, preferring instead to peruse the apartment standing by a rather worn but comfortable looking armchair. Knowing Suga was an artist, he’d expected something a little more stylish and coordinated, but nothing seemed to match up, and the easel by the window was draped with a grey dust sheet covered with black ink splodges.  But for all the mismatched furniture (Tooru’s was all bought from one store and one collection), sky blue walls, a sunshine yellow blind uneven halfway down the window, and a stack of comics on the coffee table, the apartment had a warmth to it, the eclecticism neatly summing up Suga himself.

He wandered over to the window, stared down at three tiny window boxes housing brightly coloured flowers, and then focused on the horizon.

“Decent view,” he said, when he heard footsteps.

“It’s better at night,” Suga replied a little breathily. “But I like watching the boats in the harbour.”

“Wish I’d known. I could have hired a boat,” Tooru said, turning to face Suga. “Wow, you look good.”

“You too.” Suga’s face was wreathed in smiles as he assessed Tooru’s clothes, and never had he felt more pleased he’d removed his tie. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see. My car’s outside.”

 

It wasn’t awkward leaving the apartment together, getting the elevator and walking to Tooru’s car, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. There was a nervous energy surrounding Suga, a small tremble in his hands and head, which affected Tooru more than he thought possible. He was used to the anticipation, facing opposing counsel in court had given him a buffer for his nerves, but seeing Suga clearly unsure whether to talk or keep silent, he decided he needed to take the lead. He began a conversation, nothing heavy, simple chat about the area and how he thought he had a friend living close by.

“You like it here?” he asked, clicking his car key fob.

“Yes, it suits me. The neighbourhood is quiet. I was going to rent somewhere bigger, but this is a better location.” He named another part of town and Tooru nodded sympathetically, recognising it as a far cheaper area, but not one anyone would choose to live in.  “Is it far where we’re going?”

“I’m not sure you’re entirely happy with surprises, are you, Suga-chan?” Tooru murmured as they got in the car.

“Umm, just scared you’ll have gone to a lot of trouble and –”

“Okay.” Tooru licked his lips. Holding the car keys out to Suga, he dropped them into his hands. “I’ll tell you what I’ve done, and then you can decide. I haven’t booked a fancy restaurant, or anything that involves a long car journey because I would quite like to have a drink. It lessens the tension a little, don’t you think?”

“Right. Uh... yes, I agree.”

“Now, I know you said you liked the park, but that wasn’t really suitable because it is public and there will be a lot of people there today.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“I wish you didn’t look so _grim_.”

“Oh...” Suga grinned. “Actually, I was trying to keep my face straight because this sounds like a perfectly executed law case on TV.”  He fixed Tooru with a glare. “I put it to you, Sugawara Koushi, that you have been caught red handed in the ballroom with the lead piping.”

“Ha ha hahahahahaha!”  In one stroke, the tension had dissipated in the air. With a smirk, Tooru faced Suga. “If it’s all right with Judge Sugawara, I would like to take you to my apartment.  I have food, wine and music. I thought we could chat, get to know each other a little better without anyone interrupting. Is that okay? If you’d rather not, then I’m sure we can find something else to do. And I won’t be offended.”

Suga returned the keys, his fingers lightly brushing Tooru’s, and then he settled back in the seat, turning his head sideways to smile. “Drive on. Your apartment sounds perfect.”

“I like it,” Tooru replied as he started up the car. “And without Iwa-chan there, it’s not only tidy, but I’ve finally managed to get rid of the smell of his socks.”

 “Do you miss him?”

“Dreadfully!”  Tooru proclaimed, and took one hand off the wheel to clutch his chest. “My soul is torn asunder!”

“But do you?” Suga persisted, not laughing.

“Um, not sure yet,” Tooru replied with honesty.“He’s only been gone a week. At the moment the luxury of having the place to myself is utter bliss.”

***

 

As Suga entered Oikawa’s apartment, he let out a slow whistle, gazing in awe at the sight. “I’m not surprised you like living here,” he breathed, taking in glistening white walls, an oak panelled floor, and one wall entirely of glass. “That view is to die for.”

“Mmm, I don’t get tired of it,” Oikawa said, and moving to the French windows, he unlatched them to reveal a balcony, set with a table and two chairs.  “I thought we could eat out here as it’s such a glorious day. Will that suit?”

“Lovely,” Suga replied, following him outside.

“If you look to the right, you can see the Sky Tree.”

“Amazing. That was the first thing I went to visit when I came to Tokyo.” Suga said, looking the way Oikawa pointed. “I went with Daichi, actually. He’d bought tickets for him and Mei, but she was called in to work, so he came over, must have been a week after I moved in and ... sorry, I’m babbling.”

“I queued with Iwa-chan to get tickets,” Oikawa mused. “We were eighteen. No, actually, he was eighteen and I was seventeen. I’d been saving for months, and then, just as we were about to pay, Iwa-chan slapped down a wad of yen and declared it was my birthday present.”

“Like the concert tickets?” Suga asked, surreptitiously studying Oikawa’s face, which appeared much younger when he talked about his friend. “They were your birthday present, too, weren’t they?”

“Yes, they were. Not a surprise, though. I’d been going on about it for weeks, then when they finally went on sale and I realised I was in court and could not get online, I practically ordered him to buy them.” He laughed. “Iwa-chan went online with his computer, his iPad and his phone. Oh, and if that didn’t work he had Sawa-chan trying as well.”

“Daichi?  Really?”

“Mmm, the pair of them couldn’t leave their desks for three hours,” Oikawa said, and shot Suga a smile. “At one point, Iwa-chan had to take a call, leaving Sawamura manning six devices. Mind you, he is a computer – OH!”  He broke off and blinked rapidly. “You didn’t know that, did you? I’ve just remembered you thanking us for the tickets.” Pressing his lips together, Oikawa gave a chuckle. “Do you think it was a set up?”

“What?”

“Our straight friends deciding to play matchmaker,” Oikawa explained. “It would be exactly like Iwa-chan to assume that just because we’re gay, we’re bound to get on.”

Nonplussed, Suga gripped the balcony rail. “I don’t know. I guess, maybe.” He shook his head, trying to process the information.

“Does it bother you?” Oikawa asked.

“Uh... n-no,” he stammered. Was this why Daichi had persuaded him to go to the party, and why he’d surprised him with the tickets? “I’ve not really thought about it.”

“Did Iwa-chan get it right,  Suga-chan?” The susurrus voice wisped through the air, softer than the breeze, and laden with both implication and promise. “Do we ‘get on’?”

And this was the crux of it. Daichi was not interested and he never would be. Here was the chance and the opportunity to forge a new path, create a different life instead of forever vacillating between hope and pining. Oikawa Tooru wasn’t someone like Daichi at all. He was the very opposite. But perhaps that was what Suga needed.

“He wasn’t wrong,” Suga agreed.

And then he tilted his face upwards, turned sideways and slowly traced his fingers up Oikawa’s arm, resting on his shoulder. Needing no further hints, Oikawa bent his head down and brushed his lips to Suga’s forehead. His hands cupped Suga’s face, fingers twisting in his hair, as he claimed his mouth.

It was a gentle first kiss, with no clash of teeth or tongues, mere soft movements of lips, warm and inviting. Yet as it intensified, Suga’s hands crept around Oikawa’s neck, pulling him closer.

“ _My hands, they’re strong  
But my knees were far too weak,_ ” Oikawa sang when he broke away, and taking Suga’s hand, he pulled him down into a chair.

“More lyrics?” Suga sighed, shaking his head. “You really don’t take anything seriously at all, do you?”

With a small smile, Oikawa ran his fingers through Suga’s hair, caressing his cheek with his thumb. “I could get very serious about you, Suga-chan,” he whispered. “And, please, now that we’ve had our first kiss, will you call me Tooru?”

 


	3. i know it ain't easy, giving up your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch Ch Chapter Threeeeee! And there's finally a need for the sexual content tag. 
> 
> Happy Birthday again, Noemi :D

_I know it ain’t easy, giving up your heart._

It had been a long day. And as Suga stretched his arms above his head, loosening his shoulders with a roll, he heard a soft knock at his door. ( _Daichi would have walked in by now, and Tooru knows I’m busy tonight._ ) He groaned a little, too tired for social interaction at least until he’d soaked in the bath, but the caller was persistant, so he got to his feet and padded to the door.

It was Mei. As small and slight as he remembered, her long hair now cut into a choppy bob to her chin. Nervous, she shifted on her feet, finally offering a wobbly sort of smile.

“Sugawara-san,” she murmured.

“Hey,” he said, then standing to one side, he opened his door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” she replied. “I’m ... um ... here to see Daichi, but he’s not at home.”

“There’s a rush on at work. They’re releasing a new piece of software,” Suga said. “He shouldn’t be too long, though, so would you like to wait?”

She raised her eyebrows, said nothing, but followed him inside.

“Have I disturbed you?” she asked, wandering across to his work desk.

“No, I’ve finished for the day.”

“You’re shattered.”

“Ah, I was working through the night.”

She smiled wistfully. “I’d forgotten how mad your schedule is. Do you take any time off?”

“A little more these days,” he replied. “Tea?”

“Please. So what’s different these days?” she asked, then flushed. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”

“Um, well...” He paused and directed her to his sofa, while he busied himself filling up the kettle. “I’m only assisting one artist now. My manga’s doing reasonably well, so I’m concentrating on that.”

“That’s great. Daichi always said you were good.” She stopped and bit her lip. “How is he, Sugawara-san?”

“Suga,” he prompted. “What’s with the formality, Mei-kun?”

“I haven’t seen you for three months,” she said. “And I know you’re on Daichi’s side.”

“I didn’t think this was about sides,” he murmured, and reached into his cupboard for two mugs. “He’s well. Been very busy, though, so he hasn’t been around as much.”

“Is he happy?”

“Uh....” The kettle boiled. Using the time to collect his thoughts, Suga made the tea, remembering Mei liked it white with no sugar, and after rootling around in his cupboard for biscuits, carried everything over on a tray.

Mei repeated her question.

“I think so,” Suga said.

“And he’d tell _you_ , wouldn’t he?” she muttered to herself. She sipped her tea, blowing across the lips of the cup to cool it down. “Is he seeing anyone?”

He shook his head without thinking, then stopped because for all he know, Daichi could be seeing someone.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh... no, nothing’s wrong. I’ve not seen him much recently,” he said.

“So he’s going out more, and not with you.” She sounded surprised and there was an edge to her voice.

Suga shook his head again and nudged the biscuits towards her. “No, it’s me that’s going out more,” he replied. “I’ve met someone.”

“You?” Her eyes widened. “Really?” Then she laughed and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry, that sounds really rude. What’s he like? No, no, let me guess. He’s ... um ... good-looking.”

“Very,” Suga said, smiling.

“Strong.”

“In what way?”

“The strong, silent type.”

“Yes and no.”

“Not quiet?”

“Loud. He’s chatty.”

She peered at him curiously. “Similar height?”

“Taller, actually.”

“Dark hair and eyes.”

“Brown hair and light brown eyes,” Suga replied. “You’re not doing very well here, Mei.”

“Mmm, there was me thinking you had a type. I was obviously wrong,” she said, suddenly sounding far more cheerful. She helped herself to a biscuit, snapping it in half. “So is he the one, then, Suga?”

“It’s very early days,” he said warily.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she said giggling. “Scared you’ll jinx it?”

“Uh ... yeah ... maybe.” To cover his confusion, Suga gulped his tea, the hot water scalding his throat and causing him to cough.

Still laughing Mei thumped him on the back, and continued to probe. (“What does he do?  Oh, a lawyer, that’s going up in the world? Where has he taken you?”) She only stopped when there was a sharp knock on the door, with Daichi walking in almost immediately.

“I know it’s Wednesday and you’ll be shattered, but you don’t fancy a beer, do you?” Daichi asked, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been a fucking bitch of a day, and I’m... Mei... what are you doing here?”

“Came to see you,” she explained gruffly, getting to her feet. “Suga said you were working late.”

“Yeah, rush job at work.”

“New release?” she continued.

“Mmm. I’ve been busy.” Daichi took a breath and stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, um, how are you?”

“Not bad. Suga said you were well.”

“Yeah, I am.” He grimaced and twisted his mouth into an apology. “We can’t talk here; it’s hardly fair on Suga. Let’s go home.”

_Home._  The word wasn’t lost on Mei either, whose eyes flickered. But when she got to the door, Daichi ushering her out, he turned back, smiled grimly at Suga and raised his hand. “Thanks,” he muttered. “We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

“Mmm, sure,” Suga replied. “Bye, Mei, nice to see you again.”

She smiled back at him, then left, Daichi following and closing the door behind the pair of them. All at once the ache was back in Suga’s shoulders, weariness leaching from every pore. He picked up his phone, pondering whether to call Tooru, when he noticed a missed text.

_‘Hi, Suga-chan. Hope you’re not working too hard. Call me when you get a chance.’_

He searched through contacts, his finger hovering over Tooru’s name, then pressed call.

“Hi, it’s me.”

Tooru’s voice lilted towards him, conjuring a picture of him lounging on his sofa, perhaps sipping a glass of Chablis as he flicked through TV channels or a newspaper.

“How exhausted are you?”

“Very,” Suga said, stifling a yawn. “And aching everywhere.”

“So, I can’t persuade you to come over, then? You can relax here.”

“Tempting,” he replied, thinking longingly of Tooru’s bathroom, his sunken bathtub and the deliciously soft sofa piled with plush cushions.

“I’ll feed you sushi and ply you with wine.”

But as he was about to agree because what else did he have planned and Tooru never failed to cheer him up, he heard a door close and footsteps patting down the corridor.

“I won’t tonight, Tooru,” he said with a sigh. “I really am very tired and should catch up on sleep.”

“Hmm, okay,” Tooru replied, sounding a little displeased. Then he cleared his throat. “How about tomorrow? I thought I’d work from home, but could do with a distraction.”

“I have a meeting with the editor in the morning, but my afternoon is free.”

“Good.” Tooru chuckled. “Now, get some sleep so you’re fully rested.”

“I’ll try,” Suga replied, smiling down the phone.

But when they’d said goodbye, his gaze wandered to his front door. Picking up two beers from his fridge, rubbing away the tiredness from his eyes, he stepped across the hallway and tapped on Daichi’s door.  He answered looking even more weary, his eyes hooded, and a droop to his mouth. But he brightened a little on seeing Suga, gesturing a hello.

“Hey,” Suga said. “Fancy that beer now?”

“Do I ever,” Daichi replied.

“Have you eaten?”

“Grabbed something at work. Was going to order a takeaway. Just can’t be arsed to move.”

“Rough day, huh?”

“Dumb fucking code error. Spent two hours trying to work out what the fuck some arsehole in London had written. Times like this, I _really_ miss Hajime.” He took a beer, opening the can, then not bothering with a glass, flopped down onto his sofa. “Mei coming round didn’t exactly help. Did she say anything to you?”

“Not much. She asked how you were and ... uh ...” His voice quietened. Daichi stared at him.

“What?”

“She wanted to know if you were seeing anyone. I had to tell her I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Swigging some beer, Daichi closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards. “She’s found a new apartment, bigger apparently, and ... uh ... she wants us to get back together.”

“Ah.”

“Mmm.”

“And?”

“Dunno.”

He opened one eye and gave Suga a glimmer of his lopsided smile. “We’re  great at this talking it through stuff, aren’t we?”

“The best.” Suga opened his beer, and because he was with Daichi, curled his feet up on the couch. “You’ve missed her though.”

“Have I?” Daichi took another drink, slow this time. “It’s kind of nice having someone around when I’ve had a shitty day, or when I want a laugh. But whether that’s Mei or ...” He laughed. It sounded odd. “Should be more than that, don’t you think? Towards the end, when she was telling me I never made time for her, all I did was snipe it was the same for her.”

“You do both have busy jobs.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can make time when I want to. I think I stopped wanting to, and although she won’t admit it, Mei stopped trying, too.”

Suga took a long breath, letting the silence hang between them. Perhaps he should stay quiet, not offer another opinion because Daichi seemed resolute, but...

“Relationships need work, Dai.”

He groaned and glugged at his beer, wiping his mouth on his hand when it slopped down his chin.  “I know that. But how much work? Does it have to only be work?  How do you decide which relationships are worth hanging in there for? I mean, isn’t it better to be alone and miserable in the short term, than plugging away at something that might never work?”

“You’re asking someone who’s never lived with anyone,” Suga said. “I can’t answer that.”

“But you know when to give up, don’t you?  When to call it quits?”

Daichi was staring at him. Dark eyes, soft as velvet, intense as fire, beseeching him.

_Should I give up? Or just keep chasin’ pavements._

He risked touching him on the hand and smiled sadly. “Sometimes you have to know when to move on, Daichi.”

***

“I’m stupidly bored,” Tooru said into his screen.

“So you thought you’d call me. Thanks!” Hajime glowered at him on Skype. “Sugawara not around then?”

“Tired,” Tooru moped. “I never realised manga artists worked so hard, but he barely gets a break. Poor love needs some serious pampering.”

Hajime snorted. “Makes a change hearing you talk about how hard someone else works. What are you up to, anyway?”

“I’m earmarked for a fraud trial that starts next week, I’m boning up on that.”

“Thought fraud wasn’t your thing?”

“Ishigawa-san has had to pull out. I’m assisting, not leading. It’s high profile though, so should be a good opportunity.” He paused and helped himself to a salmon roll. “How are things with you?”

“Not bad.” Hajime shrugged and made a vague flapping motion with his hand. “Apartment’s okay. Not like yours, obviously, but I only crash here. I’ll find something better when I get a chance.”

“And the job?”

He didn’t imagine the wince. Hajime puffed out his cheeks. “Office politics are a fucking joke. One guy got so pissed off I’d been transferred that he added an extra table to his desk. He chucks empty files on it, so he can make out he’s busy.”

“Empire builders. You find them everywhere. ” Tooru said sagely. “Lots of extra money, for you, though.”

“Yeah, money is good, and the job’s great. Just ... it’s not Tokyo. I kinda miss staring at the Sky Tree from my window.”

“It’s still there.” He reached for more sushi then stayed his hand. “So, are you able to come back and visit?”

Hajime stared straight into his webcam, his face regretful. “Not for a while. Sorry, I will miss your birthday. Deadlines and all that shit.”

Smiling brightly, Tooru popped the sushi roll in his mouth. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll celebrate with Suga somewhere. Hmm, might even hire a boat, or something. He’ll like that.”

“Shouldn’t it be what you want?” Hajime said, scowling.

“I like making him smile. He’s ridiculously adorable.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Hajime mocked, and then he leant towards the screen. “Look, it’s ... uh ... none of my business, but don’t overwhelm him, all right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Flashing your cash around _might_ make him uncomfortable.”

“Why should it? It’s my money and I can spend it how I want.”

“Yeah, but ...” He clicked his tongue. “Tooru, I know you mean well, but you trying to pay for everything drove me nuts, and I’ve known you forever. But if Suga’s not bothered, then maybe ... he’s ... uh ...”

“What?” Tooru stared intently at his friend, noticing the wariness in his eyes and the way he chewed his lip, a sure sign he was uneasy.

Hajime sighed. “I’m probably being really unfair. Daichi thinks Suga’s great and I do trust his judgement, but it’s easy to get carried away, don’t you think?”

“You think he only likes me because I can afford nice things.”

“No. NO!” Hajime shouted, and then he groaned. “Not really.”

“Fantastic. You, my best friend, thinks someone is only interested in me because I have money. Because I work my arse off and then I like buying good things. Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not!”

“But you assume Suga can only be interested because of one aspect of my life. It hasn’t occurred to you that he might like me for me?”

“YES IT HAS!” Hajime yelled. “I know you’re a good person, Tooru. We’ve been friends for twenty-four fucking years. You’re generous, enthusiastic, fun and fucking good looking, so yeah, there’s a lot he should _love_ about you. Just ... don’t dazzle him with the size of your fucking pay-packet!”

“Oh.” The storm within him died, tempests fluttering to a gentle breeze. Tooru grinned. “You think I’m good looking.”

“Don’t fish, or I’ll fly right back and punch you in the face.”

“Might be worth it. My birthday won’t be the same without you.”

Screwing up his face, Hajime grimaced. “Yeah, I really am sorry about it, but you do have Sugawara, so ...” Looking a little disgruntled, he shoved some crisps in his mouth, crumbs spilling down his shirt. “I miss you, you know. It’s too fucking quiet here without you shouting at me. Jeez, I even miss your awful singing!”

“I don’t miss you dropping food all over the sofa,” Tooru batted back, and tried to swallow down the sudden lump swelling in his throat. “I should go. Get cracking on this paperwork.”

“Yeah, sure.” Hajime grinned at him and emptied the crisp packet in his hand. “Leave me to my slobbery.”

***

Flush with ideas after a successful meeting with the editor, Suga felt as if he were skipping on air as he made his way to Tooru’s. He stopped off once, dashing into a store to deliberate over chocolates. The trouble being he had no idea whether Tooru was like himself, preferring hard centres, or like Daichi who was a sucker for caramels and truffles. Deciding he couldn’t go wrong with a mixed box, he stood in line to pay, then grinned as he caught sight of something by the counter.

“Yes, I’ll take this too,” he told the assistant, handing over the money.

“Do you want them wrapped?” the boy asked.

He glanced at his watch. The bus to Tooru’s left in ten minutes, so shaking his head, he accepted a bag, and then dashed out of the shop.

Then, of course, he had the journey and the thought of the impulse buy started to plague his mind. It was a daft gift, something he hoped Tooru would giggle at, but what if it was too daft? What if Tooru stared at the present and it dawned on him how idiotic and unsophisticated Suga was?

So, it was with slightly flushed face, trembling hands and a thudding heart, that Suga arrived at Tooru’s, stepping out of the elevator and facing the front door.

He put his hand up, took a breath, and rang the bell.

The Tooru that answered the door was not the one he had fixed in his memory. The last time he’d seen him, it had been a restaurant date, in a secluded corner, where they’d been able to play footsie without anyone seeing. Then Tooru had been wearing a suit, having come straight from work, carefully handing over the jacket to the waiter and making sure they hung it up properly with a hanger.

Tooru at the door wore jeans and a tee shirt, a suspiciously new looking t-shirt, but it was such a change from his usual style that Suga gaped.

“What are you staring at?”

“You look different. Not your work clothes, then?”

“’Course not. I am at home,” Tooru drawled. “I can do casual, you know?” Then he laughed. “You’re smart, today.”

“Meeting with the editor.  I have them every week, but this one was a little more important. They have the figures in from the reader surveys so ... uh ...”

“Is that a good ‘uh’?” Tooru asked.

“It’s a ‘the readers like the story and you’ve made it into the top half of the stories’ type of uh,” Suga replied and grinned. “It’s good news, basically. I hope they’re going to let me continue the serialisation.”

Taking his hand, Tooru led him to the lounge, nudging Suga towards the sofa, stopping to clear a pile of papers onto the table. “Should we be celebrating?”

“Maybe hold the champagne wait until I have it in writing,” Suga replied, wrinkling up his nose. “How about tea and ...” He pulled out the bag, intent only on removing the chocolates, but as he did so, the other gift, a small, silly toy fell at Tooru’s feet.

“Oh, what is this?” Tooru bent down.

“Nothing important,” Suga yelped, crouching to try and snatch it back.

“It’s an owl. How sweet.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. I like his glasses. They’re a little like mine.”

“Um, yes, that’s why I bought it,” Suga mumbled. “He reminded me of you. Thought he could keep you company while you work.”

A laugh bubbled between them, and then Tooru placed the toy owl in the tables where it watched them beadily, whilst he sat cross-legged on the floor, and tugged Suga towards him. “That is a lovely idea, but I’d rather it was you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Suga said.

He leant in, wetting his lips in anticipation, noting how Tooru’s mouth curved into a smile and not a smirk when he moved closer. Tooru’s hands slipped to Suga’s waist, drawing him onto him until Suga was in his lap. Their mouths met, not tentative now, but practised. Tooru moved his tongue, sliding between Suga’s lips, coaxing, yet tender. And all the while, his hands splayed on Suga’s back, the warmth of his palms pressing through the shirt fabric.

Suga inhaled the scent of Tooru’s skin, soap and shampoo, but no over powering cologne, fresh as a spring morning and just as uplifting.  It had been long, far too long, since he’d felt this way in another man’s arms. That he was here with Tooru was in every way intoxicating, sending his mind reeling. They broke apart, and he stared up at him, waiting for Tooru’s irrepressible laugh, or the deprecating flip of his hand.

But it didn’t happen. Wordlessly, Tooru lifted him gently from the floor, settled him onto the sofa, and enveloped him in his arms. His shirt hitched out of his trousers, whether accident or Tooru’s design, Suga wasn’t sure, but there were Tooru’s fingers, now tracing patterns on his torso. Eyes closed as his mouth shifted from Suga’s brow to his neck, he gasped when Suga reciprocated, lightly scratching his nails across Tooru’s skin.

It was then that Suga was hit with a wave of exhaustion, the lack of an early night, and three solid days of work taking its toll. He must have pulled away, because the next moment, Tooru had stopped and was looking down, studying him suspiciously.

“You’re stifling yawns, Suga-chan,” he said. “Did you get _any_ sleep last night?”

“A little,” he replied, and reached for Tooru. “Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry. But were you _that_ worried about your meeting?”

“The meeting? No, at least, I wasn’t up all night because of it. I... uh ... didn’t get to bed early enough.”

Tooru flipped his nose. “Naughty. You said you were going straight to bed.”

“Mmm, something came up.”

“What was that?”

“Um...” He debated his answer, but really there was no reason to lie and Daichi hadn’t asked him to keep quiet. “Mei called round.”

“Mei?”

“Oh, Daichi’s ex. She ... uh ... wants them to try again.”

Tooru’s face was impassive, but his hand tensed suddenly around Suga’s shoulder.

“I had to see if he was all right,” Suga explained.

“Did you?” Tooru said neutrally.

“He’s a good friend, and he needed to talk,” Suga said, and raised his hand to Tooru’s face. “You’d have done the same for Iwaizumi-san, I’m sure.”

Twisting his face sideways, Tooru kissed Suga’s palm, his teeth nuzzling the mound of his thumb. “I’m not that nice. I’d have told him to get over her, and then taken him out to a bar.”

“I took him beer. We’re not that different, Tooru,” Suga replied and smiled.

“So are they getting back together?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think so,” Suga murmured, not really wanting to think about it, because at that precise moment Tooru began placing petal soft kisses on his wrist.

“I should let you sleep,” Tooru whispered, “I’ll wrap you up in a blanket like a burrito and curl myself around you.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Suga said, and started to laugh. “This is so much more fun!”

“Really?”

Suga grinned at him, then faltered because a faint shadow was flickering in Tooru’s eyes, a moment of doubt quite unlike anything Suga had seen before in someone usually so self-confident. He blinked then rallied, twining his other hand around Tooru’s neck. “Infinitely more fun,” he replied, and pulled him back down.

***

Apart from his sixteenth birthday (when he’d been suffering from his first hangover and cancelled the planned trip to the beach) this was not only the first birthday he’d spent without Iwa-chan, but now he thought about it, it was the first birthday he’d spent with a partner. At least he hadn’t since he was nineteen, and that had been a college hook-up, which had lasted a term at the most. For some reason Tooru had invariably been single when celebrating. But not this year. At the age of twenty- seven, he’d eschewed drinks with colleagues, and a table at Takehiro’s instead accepting Suga’s invitation of a meal round at his.

 “I can cook,” Suga assured him. “But if you’d rather eat at yours, then I could always bring everything to you.”

“No, your place is fine,” Tooru replied.

And it would be because it was something new, and now was the time to break free from the past, slip away with Suga into another world.

So, after a shower and change of clothes, grabbing two bottles of wine (red and white) Tooru took a cab to Suga’s apartment, because he wanted a drink and didn’t quite dare to presume he was being invited to stay over. The lift was working, and not needing the walk to calm his nerves this time, Tooru entered, smiling at a rather harassed woman who was dragging a small child by its wrist (making sure he dodged the child’s very sticky outstretched hand). He reached Suga’s floor, paused for a second or two to check his reflection, smoothed down his shirt, and wandered down the hallway.

He heard music before he got there, blasting down the end of the corridor, and he grinned because surely Suga wouldn’t have played this so loud if Sawamura was around, and surely he was playing this artist because he knew Tooru was on his way. And then he heard a voice, clear and true, lilting towards him. 

“ _’Cause we had time between us,_  
_and miles between us,_  
_the heavens cried_  
_I know I left you speechless.’”_

He was at the door, creaking it open, a smile on his face as he waited. Suga was at his table, chopping an array of vegetables in time as he sang, a wiggle to his hips. And although Tooru was tempted to stay silent as he admired this most unselfconscious of performances, Suga had begun to turn, so he stepped into the room, flinging his arms wide.

“ _But now the sky has cleared and it’s blue  
And I see my future in you!_ ”

“AGH! ” Suga yelped, and still with the knife in his hand, twisted on his feet to face him. “Happy Birthday!”

“I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” Tooru said, smiling lazily. “But I really can’t resist a song.” Approaching, he carefully removed the knife from Suga’s hand, dropped it onto the table, then gathered him close. “You look as if you’ve gone to a lot of trouble.” He dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

“No trouble at all. Not for the birthday boy,” Suga replied, all smiles.

There was a gleam in his eye, a twinkle to match the smile, leaving Tooru incapable of doing anything but gaze at him. Suga snuggled closer, stood on his tiptoes, and graced his lips onto Tooru’s cheek. “Now, I do have a little bit of prep left, so would you like to open some wine first?” he asked. “Or would you like your present?”

“I’d like a birthday kiss,” Tooru grumbled and bent his head towards Suga. He wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever get tired of the slight hitch in Suga’s throat before he kissed him. Or if he’d develop immunity to the plush pink lips that parted so readily.

The music blared all around them, segueing into the next song, but all Tooru could hear was the thrum of blood roaring around his head.

It was over all too soon, but as Suga wriggled out of his arms, gasping for air, Tooru didn’t tug him back.

“You pour some wine, and I’ll finish this,” Suga said.

Tooru saluted. “Yes, Sugawara-san! I could give you hand.”

“Nope, you’re a guest.” Reaching past Tooru, he turned down the music. “That’s better. We can actually talk now. Take a seat. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll stay here,” Tooru replied, leaning against the counter. “The view is ... delectable.”

“Behave, Tooru-chan, or there’s no present.”

“Is there dessert?”

Suga’s shoulders shook. He half turned, and gave a wink. “If you’re good.”

Assuming a smirk, Tooru poured the wine. He was quite prepared to stay at the counter,  but finding the view of Suga’s backside enchanting, he crept closer, and after setting a glass on the table, wound his arms around Suga’s waist.

“What happens if I’m bad?” he whispered, and licked Suga’s ear.

“You’ll end up hungry.”

“Only for food,” Tooru whispered. But Suga continued to chop, so giving him a last squeeze, he released him, wandering over to the window as he sipped his wine.

Maybe it was too soon. Suga hadn’t been in a relationship for years, he’d told him, and Tooru had been so caught up with his career, that casual flings, and the odd dinner date were all he’d committed to. If he pushed it now, Suga might comply, but if he ran ...

He exhaled. Screwing things up now he was on the precipice was not an option he wanted to consider.

Suga moved over to him, glass in his hand and a question in his eye. “I’ve finished the prep, so let me know when you want to eat,” he said lightly. “You’re looking very serious, Tooru-chan. Where’s that smile gone, birthday boy?”

And as he smiled, Tooru’s resolve, his nonchalance and plan to play it cool because moving too fast was a dangerous move, all of this melted away.

“Come here,” he muttered. “I want my present.”

“Oh, it’s on the de –”

“Not that sort of present,” Tooru continued. Taking Suga’s glass from his hand, he placed them both on the window ledge, then smoothed Suga’s hair from his face. Pouting his lips to Suga’s beauty mark, peppering kisses over both eyelids and down to his jaw, he heard a tiny gasp from Suga’s throat, and felt his body press against him. There was a longing there, a desperation,  a very real need transmitting itself into every movement, subtle or otherwise manifesting throughout Suga’s body.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispered. “Do you know how much I need someone like you in my life, Suga?”

The answer was breathy, unintelligible, a desperate hum in Suga’s throat as Tooru slipped one hand under his clothes, fingertips grazing his waistband, while his other hand palmed his crotch.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Uh huh.”

He stopped. “Shall I continue?”

Suga gasped, and made a minute movement away, enough to tilt back and stare into Tooru’s eyes. “It’s your birthday, shouldn’t you be the one having fun?”

“I like unwrapping presents,” Tooru said, his fingers fiddling with Suga’s fly button. “And I like to explore them.” He nuzzled Suga’s neck, just enough to leave Suga reeling while he unzipped the jeans, letting them fall to the floor, before returning to his shirt, and tugging it over his head.

“You have a clothes advantage,” Suga said, a touch self-consciously.

“You’re still overdressed,” Tooru replied, running his hands down Suga’s back and to his boxers. “And I’ll keep you warm.”

“Bedroom?” Suga offered.

“In a while,” he replied, the thought discordant in his mind, for the bedroom was small and windowless, but out here the lights from outside danced on Suga’s pearlescent skin. He dropped to his knees, wrenching at Suga’s underpants as he continued to kiss him, lapping at his chest, soft caressing fingers on his thighs and hips, his tongue travelling down the faint fair hair delineating his stomach. Tooru’s chin grazed the tip of Suga’s cock. He heard a muffled moan, felt a twitch and fingers twisting in his hair.

“You like this, huh?” he teased.

“Oh yes, but shouldn’t I ... shouldn’t I be ... uh ... for you...” he stumbled through his words.

“You promised me a meal,” Tooru said. “This is my entree.”

And then he took Suga in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. Suga keened, the sound frenetic as he clamped Tooru in place, muttering ‘sorrys’ and ‘oh gods’ in equal part.

He was close to the edge, and desperate to come, but Tooru wanted to prolong the experience, loving the way Suga was quivering, the sound of his whimpers turning him on far more than he’d thought possible. Because he had thought of this. He had imagined Suga helpless under his caress, Tooru watching on with vague amusement. But what he hadn’t foreseen was how much he now yearned for Suga’s capitulation, how he needed to feel Suga’s pleasure.

_I want to watch,_ he thought. _I want to see his face, that skin, the flush of his cheeks. I want to be a part of this, though, not just an onlooker._

“Tooru.”

“Mmmmm.” The vibrations from his reply sent Suga jerking again.

“I’m coming.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“You can... you... Tooru, I can’t...”

“Mmmm.”

Suga’s hands left his hair, pushing against his shoulders. “I’m coming. You can stop.”

He disengaged, but kept his hand in place, and his tongue licked Suga’s quivering tip. “I want to taste you,” Tooru murmured, and opened up his mouth.

“Oh. Oh! Oh... I’m...” And then as he whimpered, his thrusts reaching a crescendo, his back arching, another sound reached the pair of them. Confused, Tooru opened his eyes, glancing sideways, just as Suga’s fingers bit into his shoulders, and he yelped in horror.

“Daichi!”

“Fuck. I had no idea, I-I-I...” He backed out, slamming the door behind him, crying out another expletive and a sorry.

The hush was abnormal, the quiet clanging like an iron wall. Tooru bit his lip to stop the inappropriate giggle erupting from inside.

“Oh dear,” he said, taking charge, when Suga didn’t move. “Now, where were we?”

“I don’t think-”

“Come here,” Tooru murmured, pulling Suga back to him. “I haven’t finished, and you are so close, Suga-chan.”

“It’s...” he began to protest, but then as Tooru sucked again, swirling his tongue up and down his shaft, and slipping his hand between his thighs to stroke his balls, Suga screwed up his face and jerked hard into his mouth. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

He sank to the floor, shaking in Tooru’s arms. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and his face was red, but as his breathing settled back to normal, he rested his head on Tooru’s shoulder. “How much do you think he saw?”

“Does it matter?” he asked idly, and waited with bated breath for Suga’s answer.

“I guess not.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. What will happen? I don't know. (Well, I do, but I'm leaving you in suspense a while longer :D)


	4. i hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Time to hide. It's been a good life...

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited_  
_But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it._

 

Tooru was in the lounge when Suga woke. It was four am, and he guessed he must have felt the sheets move, or maybe it was the lack of warmth from another body that caused his eyes to open. Stretching out to discover a void had left Suga restless. He waited a while because, after all, it might have been that Tooru had got up to use the bathroom, or fetch a glass of water, but when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of a television, he slithered out of the bed.

Huddled up on Suga’s tiny sofa, he was flicking through channels. Suga doubted he was concentrating, not even when he settled on a re-run of some poorly made cop show. On the table, he’d placed Suga’s gift, which he now picked up, holding it in front of him.

“Hi,” Suga muttered.

Tooru glanced over his shoulder. “Hello. Sorry, did I wake you? I tried to keep quiet.”

“Not really. Can’t you sleep?”

“Hmm, thinking about the case,” he replied, sounding glib.

“It’s nearly over, isn’t it?”

“Summing up starts on Monday,” Tooru agreed. He reached out his hand and beckoned Suga to come closer. “Sawa-chan is right, you are very good. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Suga mumbled, scuffing the floor with his toes. “I ... um ... couldn’t really think what to get, and ... uh ... I ...”

“I have an _original_ Sugawara Koushi manga page to hang on my wall,” Tooru said. “It will be worth a fortune in a few years time.” Then he looked at Suga, smiling up at him. “Not that I’d sell. I love the thought you put into it. My favourite singer and us watching her. All of us.”  He whistled out a breath.  “That was such a good evening.”

“It was,” Suga said. Accepting Tooru’s hand, he curled up next to him. “Thank you for staying over.”

“Purely selfish. I wanted to spend the night with you.”

“My bed is so small. Were you uncomfortable?”

“That didn’t bother me,” Tooru replied. He ran his hands through Suga’s hair, teasing out one of the knots. “You should sleep.”

Suga shifted a little, pouting his lips onto Tooru’s cheek. “I have Sunday to myself.  Unless you’d like to do something.”

“Maybe. I _should_ do some work. What do you usually do with your day off?”

“Sleep a lot. And I catch up with Daichi. We take it in turns to cook.”

“I’d better not disturb that, then,” Tooru muttered.

“You could join us,” he said, but to his own ears it sounded a lame suggestion.

“I don’t think Sawamura would like that,” Tooru replied. “I _do_ need to work. And I have a Skype session planned with Iwa-chan.”

Feeling the air like a lead curtain between them, Suga heaved in a breath. “Come back to bed, then.”

“I’m really not tired, Suga.”

He levered himself onto Tooru’s lap, pushing his fingers into his hair. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

Tooru stared at him, there was a shadow in his eyes, which might have been down to the light, and for a moment, Suga thought he was going to shrug him off, but then he breathed easy, and pulled Suga to his feet. “How can I resist,” he said, “when you look at me like that, Suga-chan?”

 

Tooru left after breakfast in a cafe outside Suga’s apartment, the gift in his hand. He touched his lips to Suga’s cheek, a brief salutation, and then a smile as he hailed a cab.

“How’s Wednesday for you?” he called from the window.

“Thursday’s better,” Suga replied. “Or Friday.”

“I can’t do Friday until very late,” Tooru said. “I have a retirement party for one of the partners to attend.  I’d invite you, but ... uh ...”

“Scruffy manga artist not suitable,” Suga teased, leaning through the window.

“Stuffy law firm won’t know what to do with itself if you walk into the room,” Tooru replied, then seeing the cab driver was getting impatient, he blew Suga a kiss. “Call me, okay?”

“I will!” Suga promised. He stayed on the pavement, waving his goodbyes until the cab was swallowed up in a stream of Tokyo traffic.

He was bowling back into his building, when he saw a figure in the lift. He yelled for it to be held, but the doors closed before he made it. And maybe that should have given him a sign because he could have sworn the figure had black hair, and the breadth of his shoulders was unmistakable.

_Damn it. I’ll walk,_ he thought, and pounded up the stairs, two at a time. He was breathless as he reached his floor, but still scooted along the hallway, fixing a smile on his face as he approached the end.

He rapped on the door, the eight jiggled, slipping down again, and he grinned at its familiarity, then with a twist of his wrist pushed down the door handle.

It was locked. Was he out? He looked back along the corridor, wondering if he’d somehow managed to beat the lift because Daichi didn’t lock his door. They walked in and out of each other’s apartments all the time.

But then last night. He rapped harder. “Daichi, it’s me!”

No answer. No footsteps coming towards the door.

He must have gone back out, unless that hadn’t been him in the lift. Maybe he was working. He could have left when Suga had been having breakfast. Clicking his tongue, Suga returned to his apartment. He’d catch up on sleep, then call round later. It was Daichi’s turn to cook, but he’d offer, making amends for a transgression he wasn’t even sure existed, and yet, the wooden door was not the only barrier between them. Not now.

Daichi didn’t appear at all on Sunday. Suga didn’t think he could have missed him, but when he tried again in the afternoon, there was still no reply. He scrawled a hasty note, saying ‘hi’ and would he like to come over, then slid it under the door.

Monday rolled into Tuesday –Suga’s busiest days, when he couldn’t spare the time to socialise – but despite that, Daichi would always call round, bringing him udon or a coffee, checking he was ‘alive’ as he put it. At least, he’d always called around before, but as Suga stretched and stared at the boats in the harbour, he realised something had changed, and it could only be what had happened on Sunday night.

_But I won’t let it change,_ he thought. _We can laugh this off, surely._ With resolve and renewed purpose, he splashed water over his face, rolled his shoulders and stepped across the corridor to Daichi’s.

The first thing he noticed when he rapped on the door was that the number eight had been fixed, a shiny new screw holding it in place. He rapped harder, trying the handle. It was locked again. Closing his eyes, Suga lent his head against the solid wood, wondering what he should do now. He could phone, he guessed, but the two texts he’d already sent had received no reply.

But then he heard a muffled ‘fuck’ as something crashed to the ground.

“Daichi!” He knocked louder, pounding with his fist. “I know you’re there.”

A sudden cough and a splutter answered him. “I’m not well. You don’t want to catch this.”

“Then I’ll come in and fix you some soup.”

“Suga, I mean it.”

“I want to talk!”

“Please, can it wait?”

“No. Look, I can talk through the door if you want.”

Daichi was silent, so Suga steeled himself. “Okay, so about last Sunday,” he said, raising his voice.

“Suga!”

“When you walked in on me and Too-”

“OKAY!” He wrenched open the door, scowling ferociously. “Are you determined to out yourself to everyone in this fucking building?”

“I want to talk,” Suga said, standing firm. “And besides, I’m pretty sure everyone knows about me. There are only so many times I can refuse the combined matchmaking attempts of floor three without them sussing.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Daichi muttered, staring at some fixed point over Suga’s shoulder.

“Uh, well, do you want me to fix you some food?”

“No ... um ... can’t.” He glanced up wearily, and for the first time Suga caught sight of his face. The hollows and circles under his red tinged eyes, the grey pallor that shrieked of illness.

“You look awful,” he said, placing the flat of his hand on his brow, relieved but surprised he wasn’t burning up.

“I’m fine,” Daichi wrenched away. “Look, Suga, I’m busy so what is it?”

Stunned by the brusqueness, Suga stumbled on his words, stammering out an apology for Sunday night.

“I walked in on you. Sorry. Won’t happen again,” Daichi interrupted, and made to close the door.

But Suga stuck out his foot jamming it open. “I know it was embarrassing, and ... uh ... sorry, I guess I should have locked the door, or-”

He was still tight lipped, and grey, but two red spots had appeared at the top of his cheekbones. “Suga, I have stuff to do.”

“Please, Daichi, I’m trying to explain.”

“There’s no need. It’s your apartment.”

“But there is.”

“No. There. Is. Not.” He closed his eyes. “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

“Then why did you pretend to be ill just now?”

“Okay, I was embarrassed, but I’m not anymore. Will you go now?”

“Do you want to join me for food?” he asked, adding a laugh in an attempt to ease the unbearable tension. “I’ve drawn some new pages, and you can have a sneaky peak, if you’d like.”

He saw a light flash in Daichi’s eyes, a return to the man he knew, but just as quickly he shuttered them down. “Not tonight. I am busy.”

It was as he stepped back into his apartment that a chink of the room became visible, and Suga saw exactly what he was busy with. Boxes and bubble wrap strewn on the floor. A stack of books waiting to be packed, ornaments ready to be wrapped, and calligraphy scrolls taken from the walls, wound tight in their cardboard tubes.

“You’re packing.”

“Sort of.”

“Leaving?”

“Mei called -”

“Really?”

“Does it matter?” he said wearily.

Feeling a prickle of tears, hot behind his eyes, Suga blinked them away. “You didn’t tell me.”

“That’s why I came over to talk, but you were ... uh ... otherwise engaged. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“You saw me and... What? You decided you can’t live near me anymore?”

“It’s not that.”

“Well, what is it, then? Because the last time we talked, you were adamant you weren’t going back to her. You said it was unfair on her and you and ... then suddenly it isn’t?” His voice rose, exhaustion fuelling his bitterness. “It’s me and Tooru, isn’t it?”

“Suga, don’t do this.”

“You ... you’re so disgusted by what you saw. So... what’s the deal here, Daichi? I was a great friend to have because I proved your liberal credentials, but when it comes down to it, you’re so revolted that you-”

“Stop it!” He seized Suga’s hands, squeezing them tight before suddenly realising what he was doing and flinging them away in horror.

“You can’t even bear to be near me, can you?” Suga whispered, rage turning dull as the reality hit him. He felt his face blanch and head swim. “You _fucking_ hypocrite. You and Iwaizumi were responsible for us meeting, and now you can’t stomach the fact that your matchmaking worked!”

And then he swayed, the blood which had been pounding in his head, leaving in a flurry of words, as his palms began to sweat and his knees trembled. He staggered forwards, remembered where he was, remembered how angry, how hurt, how utterly wrong he’d been about his friend, and reeled back instead, intent on heading home. But the room was spinning now, and the tears that had merely threatened before were streaming down his face.

Daichi caught him as he fell. “Have you eaten?”

“Fuck off. I don’t need this,” Suga hissed.

“You’re fainting,” Daichi said, trying to get him to a chair. “I’ll make you tea with sugar. Okay?”

“I said fuck off!” Suga repeated, and with the remnants of his strength thrust Daichi away from him. “I don’t want anything from you.” He lurched from the apartment, into the hallway and scrabbling for his keys, opened his front door.

“EVER!” he yelled and slammed the door, a millisecond before Daichi reached him.

He hammered on the door. “Suga, open up!”

“GO AWAY!”

“I need to explain!”

“That you’re a bigot. Worse than that because you pretend you’re _such_ a decent guy, but really- ” He sank down onto the floor, bracing his back against the wood.

“Please open up.”

“Why should I?”

“I opened my door to you!”

“Then you’re an idiot! Why should I have to look at someone who’s so obviously repulsed by me!” he yelled.

“It’s not what you think,” Daichi said, his voice low but clear. “You’re ... Suga, you’re the ... best friend I could ever have. More than that. I ... I’m sorry.”

“You can’t even look at me!” he screamed. “What’s changed except you saw me with Tooru? If this wasn’t a problem. If you _really_ were my friend, then we’d be laughing this off by now.”

He heard Daichi take a deep breath, felt the vibrations through the door as if Daichi were pressed against it, and then he heard him rasp.  “I’m sorry. You’re right, it did change things.”

“You admit it.”

“Not the way you think,” he replied thickly. “I don’t have a problem with you being gay. I _never_ did, and I _never_ will.”

Hearing the sincerity, yet still so conflicted, Suga opened his door a crack and peered out at Daichi.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

“No,” he mumbled. “And if you have something to say, make it quick.”

“Okay,” Daichi gnawed his lower lip. “About the tickets, I don’t know if this makes any difference, but when Hajime bought them, he assumed I was taking Mei, and I assumed he was taking ... well ... I didn’t know he’d bought the ticket for Oikawa. I’m not gonna matchmake anyone. It’s fricking crass for one thing, and I certainly wouldn’t try and set _you_ up, all right?”

Suga blinked. “Really? But you persuaded me to go to Iwaizumi’s party.”

“Because you don’t go out much,” Daichi protested. “And you’d got on well with both of them, so I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Oh, Tooru and I thought ...”

“You reckoned we thought you’d get on ‘cause you’re gay.” Daichi snorted and then he tilted his head back against the wall so Suga could only see the tip of his nose and the jut of his chin as he talked. “I get on with Hajime really well, but that’s not because he’s a software developer. A lot of them are right tossers.”

Suga’s pulse was calmer now, his heart, which had thrummed with fury, settled back to his usual beat. He creaked the door a little wider, peering at Daichi and noting the swell of his chest as he thought about what to say.

 “Are you happy?” he asked at last.  “With Oikawa, I mean?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Swivelling around, he faced Suga, then reached through the gap with his hand to touch his face. “Because if you are, then I’ll shut up.”

His fingers were cold, yet soft, lingering a little.

“Shut up about what?” Suga asked faintly.

“Please, will you answer the question?”

“Um...” He frowned. “He’s fun. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel-” He veered away from Daichi’s hand, resting his head on his knees. “Why does this matter?”

 Daichi stared at him. “Is it just physical?”

“What?”

“The attraction. I mean, I get it because he’s a good looking guy and so are you, and together you’re ...”

Suga watched as Daichi broke off, saw the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he struggled for words.

“First time Oikawa came round to yours, he accused me of being jealous,” Daichi murmured at last. “I thought he meant because you had someone and I was alone. And I denied it.”He pressed his lips together and dropped his head. “I’d never begrudge you anything, Suga. You do know that?”

Suga nodded, then realising Daichi couldn’t see, he stuck his hand through the gap and touched his knee. “I don’t know what Tooru was thinking, because I know you’re not like that.”

“He was right.”

Suga waited, hardly daring to speak, but when Daichi remained silent, he swallowed and opened the door a touch wider. “What could you _possibly_ be jealous of, Dai?”

“Oikawa,” he muttered. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? He’s rich, successful, good looking.”

“And that’s it, is it?” he asked, a feeling of vague disappointment settling on his shoulders.

Daichi lifted his head, and as Suga caught his eye, he noticed again the liquid onyx eyes, that could alternately freeze or melt, now boring into him. “I’m jealous of Oikawa,” he said slowly, “not because of who he is, but of who he’s with.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

Colour tinged his cheeks, but Daichi didn’t look away. “You heard.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I can say it plainer,” Daichi said. “But, well, it’s only just dawning on me, which is dumb. And too late now.” He sniffed and shuffled across the hallway on his bottom. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this. I’ll ... um ... get back to packing.”

The words empowered Suga. Swinging the door wide open, he launched himself at Daichi, pressing his hands against his chest as he tackled him to the floor.  “You’re still leaving! Because of me and Tooru, you’ll go back to Mei?”

“Uh...”

“You can’t,” he yelped. “Daichi, please!”

Daichi stared up at him. “Would you _really_ be that upset? You have Oikawa. He’s good for you, Sug.”

“But he’s not you.”

“What?” he whispered.

“He’s not you, Daichi. He’s ... he’s wonderful and generous and we laugh ... so much ... but he’s ... it’s like he’s my reaction to you. The very opposite because I needed to stop pining and feeling wretched because you never even looked at me.”

He stopped speaking, the words unable to get past the lump swelling in his throat, and realising the position he was now in, astride Daichi, he hurriedly levered himself off, and tried to scoot back to his apartment.

But Daichi grabbed his leg, furling his hand around his ankle, and crawled along the floor until he was alongside.

“Pining?”

“Yes. Do I have to spell it out?”

Daichi blinked, his mouth twisted into a wobbling sort of smile, and the dark circles which had so delineated his face, seemed lighter.

“I _was_ looking,” he admitted. “That was the trouble. At least, that’s the main reason Mei and I broke up. All that time she was accusing me of having no time for her, and she was right, because ...” He reached across and held Suga’s hand. “I could always make time for you. And she knew that.”

“But you’re moving back with her.”

“No, no I’m not. Now she’s not staying with her friend, I’m packing up the rest of her stuff, that’s all.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Uh ... I’m thinking about it,” he admitted, screwing his eyes shut.

“Why?”

“Because maybe I need to let you get on with your life,” he muttered. “Oikawa’s one of the best, and you deserve that. I don’t even know if what I’m feeling is friendship, a gut reaction to being alone, or maybe I’ve always loved -”

“Shut up,” Suga hissed. He edged closer, so close there was barely a hair’s breadth between them. And then, so slowly, so carefully, so tenderly in case he scared him off, Suga touched his lips to Daichi’s. He waited for the hesitation. He waited for the repulsion, the hands that would surely shove Suga away. But there was no pause, merely a flicker of eyelids, and then Daichi’s lips parted.

“Koushi,” he groaned.

***

“Suga-chan, what a surprise!”  Tooru, opened his door, a smile wreathing his face. A smile which dropped when he saw the way Suga was standing, shuffling his feet, biting his nails. “What’s the matter?”

“May I come in?”

_So polite_.

“Of course.” He held out his hand, then dropped it uselessly by his side, when Suga, after staring glassily, shook his head.

“Tea?”

“Um ... no, thank you.”

“Wine, then? I know it’s only Tuesday, but I get the feeling I might need it.”

He followed Suga into the lounge, waiting for him to sit, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at the manga page he’d created, now framed and hanging on Tooru’s wall. 

“How was the court case?” he asked, turning.

“We won. I was planning on calling you, to see if you fancied joining us in a celebration, but ...” He stood in the doorway. “I don’t think you’ve come here to talk about that, have you?”

“It’s ... uh ...”  Suga’s hands were clenching and unclenching, his face pale, but there was a look of utter determination however hard this was in his eyes.

“Don’t prevaricate, Suga-chan,” he murmured. “I’m a big boy now.”

He swallowed. “I’ve loved spending time with you, Tooru.”

_Ah, here it comes._

 “You make me feel good, so good about myself. And I’ve enjoyed being with you so much, but... I’m sorry.” He stiffened himself, and looked Tooru right in the eyes. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

“Sawa-chan came through, did he?”

Suga started. “What?”

“Please. I don’t think I’m flattering myself by thinking he’s my only competition.”

“Yes, it’s Daichi.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step closer.

“And he feels the same, does he?” Tooru wondered, trying to sound light, knowing he came off as sarcastic and bitter. “How long’s it been going on?”

“We kissed this afternoon. Once. That’s all.”

“But I’m guessing it was enough,” Tooru remarked. “How _sweet_.”

Suga bit his lip. “I am _so_ sorry. I never dreamt he was at all interested. But, it’s like... you made me forget how stupidly in love with him I was, but now ... Now I know there’s a chance, I -”

“You want to grab hold with both hands and never let go,” Tooru replied, wondering how he sounded so calm. But then, in an odd way he was calm, the twinge inside of him not the old searing pain of heartbreak, but an ache of what could have been.

“I...” Suga gulped, gave an odd sort of stiff bow, and then seemingly realising what he was doing, smiled self-deprecatingly. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to lose touch.”

“You think Sawamura will be happy with that?” Tooru laughed.

“He’ll have to be,” Suga said, sounding fierce as he reached out with his hand and tried to squeeze Tooru on the arm.

But he flinched away. “There’s such a thing as needing some space, Sugawara.” Tooru replied, making a vague gesture with his hand as if it were of no consequence. Suga’s face fell and his white, even teeth bit into the plush pink lower lip. Tooru almost smiled. “Give it time. Think of it as an adjournment, if you like. Then maybe with all the facts in front of us, we can re-examine and - ” He broke off, stung at the emptiness widening in his life.

“You’re important to me. Please believe that,” whispered Suga, and he sounded genuine but didn’t attempt the to touch him again. Instead, he sniffed and wiped his eye on one of his baggy sleeves. “I adore you, Tooru.”

Holding out his hand, Tooru tilted Suga’s chin upwards with his fingertips and flashed him a smile, one he hoped looked friendly. “I adore you, too, Suga-chan, but that’s not the same as love.”

***

It was the Sunday when the doorbell disturbed him. Tooru considered ignoring it - he had told work he had flu, after all, so it would hardly be important – but the caller was persistent, continuing the buzz and hammering a fist on the glass pane. Shoving a small toy owl under a cushion, he slithered off the couch, holding his quilt around him, and shuffled to the door.

There was something familiar about the outline facing him through the door window. Tooru shook his head, because the person he recognised still had a key as far as he remembered, and they’d never stood on ceremony.

“Iwa-chan!”

Hajime scowled back at him, then his mouth dropped open. “God, you look crap!”

“Flu,” he replied.

“In the middle of summer? Yeah, right!”

“I’m ill.”

“Bollocks.”

Sulkily he stood the side, letting Hajime into the apartment. “Why are you here?”

“Flying visit. Tokyo office needs me.”

“Really?” He arched one eyebrow.  “You’d think a multi-national software firm would deal with things electronically.”

Hajime shrugged, dumped what seemed to be a heavy holdall by the coat rack, wandered through to the lounge, and plonked down on the armchair.  “Some things can only be done face to face, even for a computer genius like me. I’m dying for a cup of tea.” 

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” snapped Tooru, but he started walking towards the kitchen.

“Picture’s new,” Hajime called out. “Why haven’t you hung it on the wall?”

“I was taking it down,” Tooru retorted, not adding that he’d been staring at it again and wondering if the detail in Sawamura’s face should have given him a clue as to how this would play out. “It doesn’t suit the room.”

“Fuck me, that’s us.” Hajime asked. “God, is that Sugawara’s work?”

“It is.” He left for the kitchen, hoping the space would give him time to collect his thoughts because of anyone he knew, Hajime was the one person he couldn’t hide from.

But Hajime followed. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Tooru opened the tap, letting the water flow into the kettle.

“Sorry it’s over. I know you liked him.”

Water splashed on his hands, soaking up his pyjama sleeve, but Tooru stared out of the kitchen window. “I did,” he murmured. “Can’t be helped.”

“Hey, I’ll do that,” Hajime said, and taking the kettle with one hand, he ruffled Tooru’s hair with the other. “You okay?”

“’Course I am. Tornado Tooru, that’s what you call me. It’s good it ended quickly before he got hurt.”

Sighing, Hajime plugged in the kettle, washed up two mugs from the dirty group collecting on the counter top, and fished around in the cupboard for the teabags. “That’s not why I call you that,” he said, and  grimaced. He ran the tap again, adding washing up liquid, then started to wash the remainder of the cups. “When a tornado’s finished, it’s done, Tooru. It doesn’t move on forever, it strangles itself until there’s nothing left but a breeze.”

“I’m fine,” Tooru assured him. “I told you this last week. You didn’t have to visit.”

He made the tea, mashing his teabag into the side of the cup, fishing it out quickly, but leaving Hajime’s to brew for a while longer as he fetched the milk.

Hajime picked up his mug, took a sip and leant back against the counter top. “I wanted to come.”

“Why? Don’t they need you in Osaka?”

“They can do without me,” he replied bluntly. “You can’t.”

He laughed. It was brittle. “And you say I’m arrogant.”

“You _are_ ,” Hajime retorted. “You arrogantly assume no one cares about you. And you like to pretend that everything’s fine. You’re good at that. Sometimes I don’t know if you’d have made it big as an actor, but I guess being an attorney’s the same thing.”

“Why this sudden concern?”

“Makki called me. Said you were out on Tuesday. Buying everyone drinks, celebrating a case win, or something. He said it was like watching a Chinese lantern, seeing it fly as it burnt.”

“You’d rather I stayed at home ‘sulking in my tent’ because I didn’t get the boy?”

“Do you miss him?” The question was blunt, but the tone was kind.

Tooru considered, tilting his head to one side. “He was there. He filled this void I call a personal life for a while.”

“That all? You make it sound cold.”

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, letting his muddled thoughts swirl and clear, leaving only his feelings at the surface. “I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I knew it was a risk. The irony of hooking up with someone head-over-heels for their best friend and seeing it play out just as you’d always ... Oh, forget it.”

And the memory returned, floating like the darkest of clouds between them, of _that_ night before his sixteenth birthday, the pair of them sharing illicit beers in Tooru’s room, and Hajime’s laughter when Tooru made his most embarrassing of confessions.  

“Tooru.” Hajime’s voice sounded odd, quiet but rasping. “I was sixteen, all right, scared as shit about what my dad would say, _and_ we were both drunk. Laughing it off, ignoring my feelings was the only way I could cope. Because, look, we sobered up and that was it.”

Tooru pounced on his words. “What feelings?”

 “Come here,” Hajime muttered, but when Tooru didn’t, he put down his tea, opened up his arms and closed the distance between them.

And it wasn’t Suga. There was no delicate breaths, silken hair, and soft skin. Hajime was all musk and bristles, coarse hair and scratches.  This was his friend, his best friend, the guy he’d known since he was three. The person who knew him best, who he’d shared more ice-cream, more fights and more laughs with that anyone else in the universe. But never had he been held like this, with Hajime holding him so very tight, whispering that everything would be fine, that he was here, and he wouldn’t leave him again.

“I can’t keep you here, Iwa-chan,” he said, sighing. “It’s not fair on you. God, where would the Frosty-face-chans of this world be without you?”

“Don’t take the piss,” Hajime said, growling as he tweaked a tress of Tooru’s hair. His hand slowed and he gazed into Tooru’s eyes. “Remember when we were five.”

“What about it?”

“That kiss,” he muttered, colour heightening his cheeks.

“Mmm?”

“You ruined a good ice-cream. I want compensation.”

“You’re going to sue me!” Tooru laughed, and jiggled up and down in Hajime’s arms, feeling brighter for having him there. “I think the statute of limitations has run out by now... Oh!” He pulled away, shocked as Hajime planted his mouth, a touch haphazardly, onto Tooru’s lips.

“I don’t have any ice cream,” he mumbled, burying his face in Tooru’s shoulder. “Haven’t eaten it for years. Does that make a difference?”

Tooru smirked. He couldn’t help it, his spirits lifting, the grey cloud pierced by an unexpected shaft of sunshine. “It’s a lot less cold,” he giggled, and cupping Hajime’s face in his hands, he kissed him again.

“I’ve missed _you_ so much more, Hajime.”

 

***

_‘I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again,_  
_I'll put my hands up,_  
_I'll be somebody different,_  
_I'll be better to you.’_

_Chop. Chop. Chop._   The carrots were finished. Suga reached for the cucumber, just as Daichi did. Their fingers touched. They smiled at each other.

_Chop. Chop. Chop._

“We’re in harmony, do you realise that?” Suga murmured.

Leaning across, Daichi pecked him on the cheek. “Finally.”

There was a pause as the song ended, and both ceased their chopping.

“I’ll finish this,” Suga said, reaching for the scallions. “You can change the music if you wish.”

He began to slice, but Daichi didn’t move away.

“I honestly don’t mind if you want to listen to something else,” Suga repeated.

“Shh,” Daichi said, and pressed his finger to Suga’s lips, smiling when Suga nibbled it. “I like this one.”

_‘You've been on my mind  
I grow fonder every day.’_

“Really. I didn’t know you knew it.”

“Sometimes you didn’t rewind,” Daichi replied, “and you’d let the album play to the end. And on those times, I used to listen and wonder about the tracks you rarely played – the ones no one remembers.”

_‘Lose myself in time  
Just thinking of your face.’_

“This one always made me think of you,” Daichi continued, and started to sing.

_“God only knows why it's taken me_  
_So long to let my doubts go_  
_You're the only one that I wanted.”_

Pausing, he drew Suga close in his arms, and whispered a little shyly, “But now, it reminds me of us.”

_‘So come on and give me the chance_  
_To prove I am the one who can walk that mile_  
_Until the end starts.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Tis over. 'Tis done. And I really hope you're satisfied with how I resolved this. I know some of you will have wanted a different ending, but this was always going to be my endgame.
> 
> The last scene was based on Daphne and Nils from Frasier singing Heart and Soul as they cooked.

**Author's Note:**

> There are four chapters to this story, and it is finished, so I will post it at regular intervals.


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